


The One Where Merlin and Arthur Attempt to Have a Tasteful Wedding

by fuzzytomato



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/pseuds/fuzzytomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur decide to get married. That was the easy part. Planning their wedding on the other hand... A fic about the trials and tribulations of wedding planning. Based on the KMM prompt of organizing their own wedding. It's harder than they thought (good advice from friends, things that go wrong, nervousness/frustrations, etc.). In other words, approx 21k of cracky wedding shenanigans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Merlin and Arthur Attempt to Have a Tasteful Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely eldee and sheswatching for the beta.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Arthur and Merlin decided to gather their family and friends together and announce the big news. They should’ve known, really, that it was an altogether bad idea based on every other previous occasion that they had planned and experienced by that point, but it was something to be said for them to be so stupidly in love that they had decided to try again anyway.

They booked a restaurant that wasn’t too plebian for Arthur’s family and not too pretentious for Merlin’s. They had given Uther the date and time several weeks in advance so he could fit it in his busy schedule. They had reassured Morgana that she didn’t need to bring a date. They had bought Hunith a bus ticket so she could be sure to make the trip. They arranged for Balinor to be on speaker-phone because he was off doing some kind of geologist expedition. They invited Gwen and Lancelot because they had been the instigators for the whole Merlin and Arthur romance. They invited Leon because he had been Arthur’s best friend since they played ‘castle’ in Arthur’s bedroom with plastic swords and bed sheets for towers. Will was Merlin’s Leon and classified himself as ‘Merlin’s brother from another mother’ and as such, despite Arthur’s vocal veto, he was invited as well. (Merlin reminded Arthur that Will would find out from Hunith and show up anyway so it would just be easier to have a place for him.)

Everything was perfect, except Uther arrived late. Morgana dragged some poor bloke named Cedric along. Balinor’s phone reception had been tenuous at best. Will had been loud and contentious since he had shown up in ripped jeans and t-shirt and the restaurant would not let him in without a dinner jacket. (Merlin had put one in the car because he knew his friend so well.)

Finally, with everyone gathered around the table and the waiter serving their drinks, Arthur stood.

“Everyone,” he said with more aplomb than Merlin could collect at the moment, “Merlin and I have decided that…”

“No, I don’t want any wine,” Gwen said forcefully to the hapless waiter that kept trying to pour some in her glass, her hand over the top of it. “No, really. I don’t want any.”

“But miss, they specifically said everyone needs a glass to toast.” The waiter dripped a few splashes of the Merlot on Gwen’s fingers. 

“But I’m pregnant!”

There was a collective gasp and then a stunned silence until Morgana let out a high pitched squeal and darted around the table. She gave Gwen a warm and crushing hug.

“That is so wonderful!”

The table came alive then, all excited chatter, ( _that’s wonderful dear_ and _Lance, you dog_ and _I’ll have her glass of wine_ ) and Arthur sank heavily back in his seat, a little dazed.

“Did we just get our thunder stolen at our own engagement party?” Arthur asked, leaning into Merlin’s side.

“I think…I think we just did.”

Balinor’s voice came in covered in static and unintelligible so Merlin grabbed the phone and held it to his ear.

“Dad?” he said, “yeah, Dad? I can’t hear you. What? Arthur and I…no…huh?” Merlin stood and walked a few steps from the table, as if it would help with reception and plugged one ear with his finger. “Can you hear me now? Arthur and I…” Merlin pulled the phone away and cursed. “Arthur and I are getting married!” he finally yelled, exasperated.

Arthur sighed, and then firmly nudged Merlin’s foot with his own and Merlin looked up from fiddling with his mobile and found all eyes on him.

“Oh,” was all he could muster.

-

At least the reactions were what they expected. Uther told Arthur how proud he was for him for finally making an honest man out of Merlin and shook both their hands. Hunith said that if Merlin wanted to enter the conventional bond of marriage than she was happy for him while hugging and kissing both boys. (Her comment immediately sparked a tense conversation between herself and Uther about the sacred bonds of holy matrimony and other fascist attitudes toward love. It ended with Arthur distracting Uther about the new trends in marketing and Merlin telling his mother about the plight of baby seals at the local zoo.)

Morgana immediately began planning the wedding in her head ( _I see doves_ , she had said, _being released as you say your vows._ ) Gwen was appropriately apologetic for her big news trumping their big news and Lance was manly enough to clap them both heartily on the back. Leon did the same, almost knocking Merlin over. Will, for his part, refrained from saying anything mortifying though he eyed Arthur like he wanted to stick a fork in his back for stealing his best friend. Cedric just sat there looking odd.

Later, when Merlin and Arthur were lying in their bed, twined together after some thoroughly satisfying after-dinner sex, Merlin nuzzled into Arthur’s shoulder.

“It could’ve gone worse,” he said, absently kissing Arthur’s collarbone.

“Yeah, Will could’ve stabbed me.”

“I don’t know where you get this misconception that Will bears you any ill will.”

Arthur snorted. “He hates me. I think it has something to do with my dashing good looks and ineffable charm.”

“Glad to know the disaster that was our engagement announcement hasn’t affected you all that much.”

“At least your parents got along for once.”

“They weren’t in the same vicinity. Of course they got along.”

Arthur snuggled down into the ridiculously posh pillows and his arm tightened around Merlin’s shoulders. “Now, all we have to do is plan the wedding. That shouldn’t be too hard. Right?”

-

Merlin never knew that so many people in their lives would have _opinions_. Of course, he knew that everyone would be excited and happy and would help out in whatever way they could, but what he didn’t know was that individuals he thought wouldn’t even care would have a _vested interest._

A few days after the party, he checked his Facebook and choked on his tea when he saw that his mother’s status read: Hunith is so happy for her baby and wants him to pick a date already. Morgana and Gwen had both liked the comment (how were they friends with his mother anyway?) and Merlin already began to feel a little bit of pressure in regards to their impending nuptials.

 

To: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com

Subject: eek

My mother’s Facebook status wants us to pick a date.  
I think I may be frightened.

~ M

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com

Subject: Re: eek

My father’s PA has already been in my office twice asking me so she can book the Club for the reception.  
Hold me.

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: Re: eek

I think my parents would spontaneously combust if they stepped onto the sacred ground that is your father’s Club.  
And my mother has already said she wants us to commune with nature as we pledge our love and devotion. What do you say to an outdoor event?

~ M

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com

Subject: Re: Re: Re: eek

Two words: Bugs and Rain.  
Also, just FYI: your mother is a hippie.

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re eek

Thanks for the news flash about my mother. I think the years of running around barefoot in homemade clothes should’ve been the first sign.

Anyway, what do you think of July 21st? for the date, I mean.

~ M

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: eek

I weep for your childhood.

And July 21st sounds perfect. It is the night we met and the first night we had sex though I won’t be sharing that bit of information with anyone.

Do you remember? The night in the club and the subsequent events in the loo? I do and now I’m getting a little bothered. This was clearly your intention.

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: eek

Ha! Clearly. Come home for lunch?  
I could do with a reenactment.

~ M

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com

Subject: Lunch

Give me an hour. Be ready.

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

Merlin smiled and proceeded to update his own Facebook status: Merlin Emrys is getting married to Arthur Pendragon on July 21st.

-

When Arthur arrived home an hour later, he ran into the flat, tugging at his tie and slipping off his shoes, suit jacket hanging off one arm.

“Merlin! I’ve got 45 minutes before they notice I’m gone so you better be on the bed and naked in five seconds!”

Arthur ran into the bedroom, almost knocking himself out on the door, and tangled in the mess that was his tie and shirt, trousers already half undone, but he stopped short because Merlin was not naked and on the bed. Huh?

Arthur’s next bet was that Merlin had become immersed in his studio either sketching or painting, so he shrugged and headed that way because he was not averse to messy sex against the wall. They had done that before. He would just have to make sure not to roll in paint like he had last time.

Except when he stalked through the living room, tripping as he tried to take off his socks and walk at the same time, he found Merlin curled up in The Recliner (a chair that was an awful pea green color, smelled like cheese, and was a hold-over from Arthur’s bachelor days that he refused to be rid of because it had perfectly formed to the contours of his arse and could withstand vigorous, spontaneous living room sex). Merlin’s eyes were wide and his face was pale, staring at his computer screen as if it were some horrible accident he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.

“Merlin?” Arthur ventured cautiously.

“We can’t have the wedding on July 21st,” he said, voice flat.

“Is there any particular reason?”

“Seventeen to be exact.” Merlin turned his computer so that it was facing Arthur and his own eyes widened when he saw the 17 comments from various friends, families and acquaintances in a long list down Merlin’s Facebook account.

Arthur squinted and leaned in. “How does my father’s PA even have access to your profile? And,” he leaned in closer, nose almost touching the screen, “is that Catrina?”

“Your stepmother twice removed wants to walk you down the aisle.”

Arthur shuddered. Uther had a bad habit of entering the bonds of holy matrimony and then severing them. Catrina had lasted the longest, a few years, when Arthur was young.

“No wonder you look like a deer in headlights.” He tugged on Merlin’s hand. “Come away from there.”

“But Gwen says that July 21st is a Wednesday and it is rude to get married on a weekday because you are asking people to take off work and my Mum says it would be too hot for an outdoor wedding and Morgana says that it would only be five months and we can’t plan a wedding in five months and Dad says that he would need more notice and your Father’s PA says that the Club…”

Merlin hands began to flail a bit and Arthur grabbed them before he ended up hurting himself.

“Merlin, calm down. Tonight, you and I will sit down with our calendars and pick another date but for now, I think you need to relax.”

Merlin cast one last glance at the screen, and _ohdeargodtherewasaneighteenthmessage!_ but Arthur managed to get Merlin out of The Recliner and away from his computer and into the bedroom. He pushed him down onto the bed, Merlin still looking a little glazed.

“Now, I have,” Arthur made a show of checking his watch, “thirty minutes to give you a nice, relaxing blow job.” He splayed his hand across Merlin’s stomach as he began unbuttoning his jeans. “So just lay back and enjoy it. Forget about this setting a date nonsense, ok?”

Merlin nodded and once Arthur’s mouth set to work, he promptly did.

-

They decided on September 25th because it not only added two months to the planning stages but it also had the potential for good weather for an outdoor wedding (but they were decidedly not doing that because of Arthur’s aversion to bugs) and it gave plenty of time for Uther and Balinor to clear their schedules. It wasn’t exactly what they wanted but it did somewhat coincide with the day they moved in together (one year anniversary on the 20th) and it was a Saturday.

And when Merlin posted it on Facebook, he got several likes, except for Will who bemoaned the fact that there was not a dislike button. And once the date was all settled, everything went back to normal for approximately a week.

“Coming,” Merlin mumbled sleepily, still only in pajama bottoms, hair in a mess across his eyes as he walked to the door where someone was incessantly pounding. He looked through the peephole and yawned as he pushed back the five locks (Arthur was paranoid) and opened it. 

“Morgana,” he said, rubbing his hand across his eyes, “it’s seven in the morning on a Saturday.”

She breezed in, all raven curls and designer jeans and stilettos, a book firmly clasped in her hand.

Merlin closed the door and yawned again, jaw cracking.

“Exactly. It is the first Saturday of your wedding planning.”

“It’s seven… _in the morning_.”

“You’ve mentioned that,” she said, a smile playing around the corner of her mouth.

“What are you doing here…at seven…in the morning...on a Saturday.”

She sat primly on the edge of the couch and eyed The Recliner with an expression of fear mixed with disdain. “I’m here to make sure you utilize your wedding planning time effectively. I know you and my brother and a month before the date you’ll slap everything together and it will be disastrous.” She patted the seat next to her.

“Morgana,” Merlin groaned, “I haven’t even had morning sex yet. Can you wait like ten minutes?”

“No,” she said firmly.

Merlin found himself sitting next to Morgana for the next two hours going over the contents of a Wedding Planner book while Arthur blissfully slept on. Merlin found himself nodding every once in a while, head lolling on the back of the couch, and Morgana would nudge him awake and point something out about flower arrangements or seating charts or wedding parties.

At nine _in the morning_ she was still going strong, Merlin was slack jawed and exhausted and ready to smack her over the head, repeatedly when she said the most blessed phrase in the world.

“You know, we could just hire a wedding planner.”

“Oh my god, _that_. Let’s do that.”

She smiled. “Great! I’ll set up some interviews for next Saturday.”

“Yeah, go.”

She let herself out and Merlin stumbled back to bed, tripping over the rope still tied to the post from the previous night’s escapades. He flopped back into it the mess of sheets, next to Arthur who was lying on his stomach, face smushed into pillows and snoring. His part of the bed was cold now; the sheets chilly against his bare skin, so he snuggled into Arthur’s side and Arthur stirred, draped a heavy arm over Merlin’s chest and pulled him down into the warmth of his embrace.

“Where’d you go?” Arthur slurred. He nuzzled into Merlin’s neck. “Missed you.”

“We’re getting a wedding planner,” Merlin answered, eyelids already drooping, drowsy, fuzzy and warm.

“S’ok,” Arthur responded, placing gentle kisses along Merlin’s ear, shoulder, jaw. “Sex?”

Merlin’s answer was a snore.

-

A week later, they were on the couch, Arthur enthralled in a footie game, Merlin enthralled in a book. Merlin’s head was pillowed on Arthur’s thigh, his feet hanging over the armrest, the soft worn denim of Arthur’s jeans scratchy against his cheek. Arthur’s fingers were gently, absently, carding through Merlin’s damp and curling hair as he watched the game, occasionally tugging when his team did something exciting. Merlin shifted, bored, dropped his book to his chest, creasing the already well-worn spine just a little bit more, and then pushed his nose into Arthur’s hip, eyes lazily drifting shut, inhaling the scent of laundry soap and Arthur, sharp and sweet. The hem of Arthur’s t-shirt had ridden up revealing a sliver of skin and Merlin pressed his mouth against it, Arthur’s fingers tightening in the strands of his hair.

“Do that again,” Arthur said, voice a little breathless, a little husky.

Merlin smiled. He leaned in, parted his lips, breath hot against Arthur’s flesh, the tip of his tongue tracing circles on the smooth skin.

Arthur’s breathing quickened, fingers more insistent on Merlin’s scalp, holding him in place as Merlin’s fingers slipped under his shirt.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said low. “We just had hot shower sex. You can’t possible be ready for more.”

Merlin licked a long line from Arthur’s hip to his navel then grinned up impishly at his fiancé.

“I always want more. Actually, I really want to suck…”

There was a pounding on the front door and Merlin jumped, startled, then smacked a hand to his forehead.

“Morgana!” he cursed. “I forgot!”

Arthur groaned. “Wedding planners.”

Merlin pushed himself up from Arthur’s lap, grumbling, casting one longing glance back at the flush on Arthur’s cheeks and the bulge in his pants before undoing the five locks and opening the door. Morgana stood on the other side, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.

“I hope you’re ready,” she said tersely.

Sitting in the café down the street from their flat, Merlin decided he was most definitely not ready. Arthur’s hand covered his own on the table, ever the picture of calm as he sipped his coffee and waited for the first of the wedding planners to arrive while Morgana chatted animatedly beside them.

“I’ve only lined up the best,” she assured. “These all come highly recommended.”

The first of the best was a bubbly, pretty blonde girl that went by Vivian. She sat across from the three of them, eyes wide and blue, a pink notebook open in front of her and a pink pen with a feathery top clasped in her French manicured hands.

“So,” she said with a smile that probably had cost thousands, “how did you two meet?”

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand, the ring he always wore on his index finger cool against Merlin’s sweaty palm.

“It is a funny story actually,” Arthur began. “We met at a club where my friend Lance was a bartender. Merlin’s friend Gwen had been flirting with Lance all night and when I tried to get a drink, Merlin told me off for interrupting them. I said something that might’ve been misconstrued as an insult,” at this point Merlin rolled his eyes but Arthur ignored him, “and he poured his drink in my lap. It’s been bliss ever since.”

Merlin warmed and relaxed at the obviously fond smile Arthur cast his way.

Vivian sighed. “That’s lovely. It’ll be great for your best man to bring up in the toast.”

“What kinds of weddings have you done before?” Morgana asked.

Vivian beamed and reached down into the large bag she had brought with her and pulled out a very pink, very large binder, covered in feathered accents and sparkles. She set it down hard on the table and Arthur’s cup rattled in the saucer. She flipped a few pages, glitter spilling out, pointing to various wedding parties and venues and cakes while prattling on and dropping names. Merlin’s eyes widened at all the _pink_.

Vivian surveyed them, cocked her head to the side. “I see swans,” she said, spreading out her hands as if to show them a picture. “Swans waddling along the grounds while you two say your vows in a beautifully decorated gazebo with pink and white roses.” She looked hard at Merlin then, assessing. “Except your complexion would not look good with pink. You’re too pale.” She looked to Arthur. “Yours however,” she placed her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, expression frighteningly adoring and sighed, loud and long, “would look wonderful in pink.”

Arthur cleared his throat, uncomfortable and Merlin hid his smile by taking a sip of his tea.

They asked a few more questions as formality and after Vivian packed up her nauseatingly pink things and left, Arthur pinned Morgana with a murderous glare.

“I want to make one thing very clear,” he said, voice dangerously calm, but eyes hard. “This is _not_ going to be Arthur and Merlin’s Big Gay Wedding Extravaganza. Do you understand?”

Morgana swallowed. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Merlin smiled happily and leaned in and kissed Arthur’s cheek. “I love it when you’re flinty.”

The next wedding planner was a woman with dark hair that crimped and curled in odd places, and large, unnaturally blue eyes. She was dressed in a burgundy suit and wore too much lipstick and eyed them both with interest.

“Arthur and Merlin, this is Nim,” Morgana introduced.

She reached out, shook both their hands but her gaze never left Arthur.

“Arthur Pendragon, you look so like your mother,” she said by way of introduction.

Arthur sat a little straighter in his chair and his grip on Merlin’s hand tightened and Merlin winced a bit from the pressure. He shot a concerned glance toward Arthur, whose lips had thinned in a line, and his expression was hard, almost unreadable. Merlin knew that Arthur was always guarded when anyone spoke of his mother since he was so protective of the few memories he had.

“You knew my mother?” Arthur asked, voice tense, strained.

Merlin surreptitiously scooted his chair a little closer and slid his leg so that his Converse was snug against Arthur’s trainer and his leg was a warm length along Arthur’s calf.

She nodded, emphatically. “Oh yes, and your father too. I planned their wedding.”

Morgana’s eyebrows rose. “Really? You didn’t mention that on the phone.”

“Oh,” Nim waved away Morgana’s comment as if it were unimportant, “I wanted to tell young Pendragon here in person.”

Before any of them could respond, she flipped open her slim black planner and clicked a pen.

“So, how did you two meet?” she asked.

Arthur relaxed a bit and Merlin could feel the blood flow back to his hand.

“We met at a club where my friend Gwen was flirting with Arthur’s friend Lance. I ended up pouring my drink on Arthur when he acted like an arse,” Merlin answered. He made sure that he gave Arthur a small, secret smile. Arthur returned it, hesitantly.

“That’s lovely,” she said as she scribbled away. “A nice story for the best man’s toast,” she said more to herself than the room at large. She cleared her throat. “I can do small weddings or large but being as it is a Pendragon event I assume it will be grandiose and over the top.”

Arthur bristled and Merlin quickly leaned toward Nim to defuse the situation and smiled. “Actually, Arthur and I just want family and a few friends. Small and tasteful.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “Very good. Not at all like your soon to be father-in-law.”

“Do you have a problem with my father?” Arthur snapped, his grip back to being white knuckled. Merlin let out a little squeak.

She looked up then, pinned Arthur with her unwavering stare. “Actually, I do,” she sneered.

Merlin flinched and a million thoughts ran through his head at once like _oh no, yet another person disgruntled with Uther_ and _Arthur is going to cause a scene_ and _there will be much comforting sex once this is all said and done_.

“He stiffed me £50 twenty five years ago off of my final bill.”

Merlin blinked and sagged back into the chair. Oh. That wasn’t so bad.

“And at 1.5% interest per month he now owes me £33,650.” She pulled out a sheet of paper from her binder and slid it across the table. “This is my bill. The interest is not compounded because, honestly, what is a few thousand pounds between friends?”

Merlin lifted the bill and swallowed. “We’ll make sure he gets this.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, curtly. “Now, let’s talk about your wedding.”

She left a few minutes later after Arthur had become all one word answers and irritated glares.

“Well,” Merlin said after she left, since Arthur was still giving Morgana fierce looks and talking in grunts, “it can only go up from here. Right?”

Arthur ordered them both a strong drink.

-

“Well, this is an improvement,” Morgana whispered, appreciatively, as a young man settled in the seat across from them. 

Arthur didn’t respond, merely huffed, and chose to continue sipping on his bourbon. Merlin sniffed the mixed drink Arthur had ordered him and grimaced when the alcohol burned his nose. 

The wedding planner was young, maybe a few years shy of Merlin’s own age. He was dressed casually in slim jeans and a button down and his hair was a little long but he smiled easily, didn’t mention Uther at all, and had no bit of pink about him.

He introduced himself as Mordred, shook their hands, his touch lingering a little, his fingertips gliding over Merlin’s palm, but Merlin ignored it, chalked it up to being nervous in the face of a glaring Pendragon and Morgana’s impressive cleavage. Merlin completely missed the slight narrowing of Arthur’s eyes at the exchange.

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Mordred said as he flipped his tattered recycled paper journal open and pulled a sharpened pencil out from behind his ear. “So,” he began, “Arthur and Merlin,” he nodded to both of them as he spoke, “before you say anything, I just want you to know that even if you don’t choose me as your planner, I wish you all the luck with your impending nuptials.”

Morgana straightened in her chair, brushed her black hair off her shoulder and nodded her approval. Merlin smiled and relaxed, immediately at ease. He patted Arthur on the leg, encouraged by Mordred’s professionalism, and kept his hand there, fingers casually drumming a rhythm on the inside of Arthur’s thigh.

“Thank you, Mordred,” Merlin said.

“You’re very welcome.” Mordred ducked his head and blushed. He cleared his throat nervously, keeping his gaze on the table. “I just want you to know that I’ve followed your career ardently.”

Arthur did perk up at that. “Really?” he asked. “You follow business? The exchange?”

Mordred laughed. “Oh, no, I mean, Mr. Emyrs’s art. I’ve actually bought a few of your smaller works at auction.”

“Really?” Merlin asked, surprised.

“Oh yes,” he nodded, enthusiastically, dark brown hair falling over his eyes, “I think you’re brilliant.”

Merlin beamed. Arthur’s expression darkened and he caught Merlin’s hand back in his own, stilling the casual caresses of his leg, and interlocked their fingers.

“So how did you two…” Mordred began then trailed off, eyes lifting to Merlin and dropping back to the tablecloth. “I don’t mean to…it’s just that…has anyone ever told you that your cheekbones are exquisite?”

Merlin blushed. Morgana squirmed in her seat, looking uncomfortable.

“I do,” Arthur said quickly, “all the time.”

Mordred reddened, shrunk back in his chair. “Right. Right. Of course.” He scribbled something in his notebook. “Yeah, so…um…how did you two meet?”

“At a club. Merlin poured his drink on me and then we fucked in the loo.”

“Arthur!” Merlin sputtered, hands flailing, almost knocking over both of their drinks. “I can’t believe…why did you…I thought we weren’t telling people that!”

Arthur smiled, predatory, then draped a lazy arm on the back of Merlin’s chair.

“Wow,” Mordred said, writing. “That’s not really something that should go into the best man’s toast.”

Mordred didn’t stay much longer after that and as he left, his eyes lingered on Merlin’s face. Once he was gone, Merlin rounded on Arthur.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded.

Arthur shrugged. “He was flirting with you. He was out of line.”

“He was not flirting.”

They both looked to Morgana who sipped her tea. “He was flirting,” she confirmed.

“He was?” Merlin slumped. “Oh. Who flirts with someone who is obviously getting married? That’s just creepy. And I actually liked him.”

“Because he was flirting,” Arthur said, but at Merlin’s dejected look, he leaned in, skimmed his nose along the line of Merlin’s cheek. “You do have exquisite cheekbones, though.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth.

Morgana ordered herself a stronger drink.

-

After meeting three more planners, all more eccentric than the last, Merlin laid his forehead against the table and lightly banged it several times. The slew of glasses, which now stood sentinel over the proceedings, each having held increasingly stronger drinks, rattled loudly, as did the silverware. Arthur had become positively clandestine and answered the last planner’s inevitable question of how they met with, “fucked him at a club,” and Merlin hadn’t even protested. Even Morgana’s enthusiasm had waned to the point where she held her head in her hand after trying to drown herself in her ‘death by syrupy chocolate goo’ dessert.

Merlin accidently banged his head a little harder than what was advisable and let out a muffled ‘ow.’

Arthur patted the back of Merlin’s neck. “That sounded painful, love.”

“No more painful than the last two hours.”

Morgana’s bottom lip wibbled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…”

“That being crazy-cakes was the prerequisite for being a wedding planner?” Arthur asked, fingers buried in Merlin’s thick hair.

“Are you drunk?” Merlin asked, lifting his head off the table a few inches, a napkin sticking to his face. “You said crazy-cakes.”

Arthur shrugged. “Maybe a little.” He looked down at the empty glass in his hand and swirled the melting ice with a frown.

“There’s only one more,” Morgana said, waving the waiter over and gesturing to all their very empty glasses. “And then we’re done. I promise.”

Merlin yawned and sat up, Arthur’s hand slipping down to his shoulder. “Then we can go home?”

Arthur gratefully accepted another tumbler of bourbon and took a long gulp. “Then we can go home.” Arthur affirmed. “And nap. On the bed. Naked.” He ran a thumb down Merlin’s neck with intent.

That seemed to give Merlin a second (or third) wind and he straightened, sipped his own newly freshened drink and put his hands on the table, giving Arthur a heated look.

“Bring them on, then.”

His name was Myror. He was tall, dressed very dashingly in a suit, and brought a sleek, well-kept portfolio. They all shook hands but before he could even launch into his spiel, Merlin leaned forward.

“Do you see swans?” he asked, preemptively. “Or peacocks? Or ostriches?”

Myror raised an eyebrow. “Well, no, I don’t normally work with exotic birds…”

“Does my father owe you money?” Arthur asked, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your father, Mr. Pendragon.”

“We fucked in the loo on our first date,” Merlin blurted.

Myror smiled. “I’ve worked with worse, Mr. Emyrs.”

“Do you find Merlin’s cheekbones exquisite?” Arthur quickly asked.

“They’re nice…” he trailed off at Arthur’s raised eyebrow. “But I don’t date clients. Even the exquisite ones.”

“My mum is a hippie and my father is a geologist. They hate each other. Can you work with that?”

“Like I said, I’ve worked with worse.”

“My father hates everyone. Can you work with _that_?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t want a big gay wedding extravaganza,” Merlin said emphatically.

Arthur nodded. “No pink.”

“No recycled napkins that make an environmental statement. No matter what my mum says.”

“No naked ice sculptures of gods and goddesses no matter what my father says.”

“No Gregorian chant or other weird religious rites.”

“We are not dancing to anything sung by Barbara Streisand or Celine Dion. I don’t care if Funny Girl is your favorite movie or that you saw Titanic in the theatre 15 times.”

“I’m not ‘the girl’ and I’m not wearing a dress.”

“I’m not a diva despite the popular opinion,” Arthur said, throwing Morgana a glare.

Myror held up his hands before another question could be fired off, his lips in a quirky grin and his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“You’ve made yourselves quite clear. I will endeavor to ensure that your wedding is tasteful, not outlandish or an extravaganza that involves copious amounts of pink or exotic birds, or fighting in-laws.”

Merlin straightened at that and exchanged a glance with Arthur. “You will?” he asked.

Myror nodded. “Yes. It’s the job, really.”

“Oh, well, then,” Merlin said happily, returning to his drink, sucking most of it down through his straw, cheeks hollowing, and looking up at Arthur from beneath his eyelashes. Arthur watched intently, swallowed hard once, cheeks flushing. Merlin pulled of the straw with an obscene slurp then licked his lips.

“You’re hired,” Arthur said, abruptly, eyes never leaving Merlin. He jumped to his feet, opened his wallet and dropped a flutter of bills and one of his cards and one of Merlin’s in front of Myror. “Morgana will give you the details.”

He grabbed Merlin’s hand, tugged him from the chair and led him through the restaurant.

They barely made it through the door of their flat before Arthur was on his knees, Merlin’s jeans around his thighs and they began the process of rewarding themselves for their hours of patience.

-

Merlin loved marathon sex. It was something Arthur and he tried to do at least once every few months. The following day, Arthur had made the brilliant suggestion of staying in bed. Marathon sex included staying in bed, hours upon hours, touching and kissing, having a contest of who could make who come the most. Merlin loved it, the moans, the sweat, the feeling of being so intimately connected to Arthur, nothing between them but skin and air, panting into each other’s mouths, lips too swollen to keep kissing, jaws aching from it, skin slick and over-sensitized, stretched too tight, hips bruised, everything about them, physically, emotionally, utterly spent.

But Merlin was the first to admit that his favorite part took place after wringing out the last orgasm, where the feeling bordered on pleasure-pain, and Arthur cried his name, wrecked and broken, and the sheets were covered in sweat and come, and they cuddled, stuck together, over-heated, Arthur’s arms around Merlin, his hands splayed across his spine, Merlin’s head on Arthur’s chest, hearing the rapid rabbit-beat of his heart.

Merlin groaned, fucked out, thighs trembling, snuggling further into Arthur’s embrace, breath coming in gasps, ghosting past Arthur’s collarbone.

“Holy fuck, Merlin,” Arthur moaned. “That was amazing.” He dropped a lazy kiss to Merlin’s temple. “Seven fucking times. My cock won’t stir for a week.”

Merlin huffed a laugh. “You always say that.”

“And you always manage to get me again in a few hours. You’re insatiable.”

“And you love me for it,” Merlin said, grinning cheekily.

Arthur kissed him again, open mouthed on the forehead. “I do love you, Merlin.”

Merlin yawned, jaw cracking, sleep already pulling his eyes closed. “I love you too.”

He was warm, sated, happy, cheek pressed to Arthur’s chest, legs tangled and he was almost asleep when he heard Arthur’s soft question.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” he asked.

“Make what? Dinner with your father isn’t until tomorrow. We have plenty of time,” Merlin said with a slur.

“No. I mean, do you think _we’ll_ make it?”

Merlin roused, propped his chin on Arthur’s chest. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we? I love you. You love me. That’s all we need, right?”

Arthur carded a hand through Merlin’s hair and sighed. “We don’t have the best examples. My father has been married four times.”

Merlin shrugged. “My parents are fuck buddies.” Arthur made a horrified face and Merlin laughed. “What? They are. They get together every now and then and they think I don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Well, I knew that they…” he made a lazy hand gesture, “but I never wanted to hear that term associated with your parents. It’s just…ugh.”

Merlin chuckled. “Don’t worry, Arthur. Just because we have horrible examples doesn’t mean we’re going to fuck it all up.”

“I’m glad you’re so sure.”

“Arthur, you’re not going to get rid of me. I kind of like you and all my stuff is here so…”

“You cheeky…I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

“You’re just trying to distract me from my next attempt of getting another orgasm out of you.”

“For the love of,” Arthur rolled them, so Merlin was on his back, and Arthur propped over him, cradled between Merlin’s legs. Arthur cupped his cheek, ran his thumb tenderly over Merlin’s bottom lip before leaning in and gently kissing him. He pulled away, expression open and vulnerable, blue eyes hopeful and desperate.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Merlin beamed, ran his fingers through Arthur’s sweat-soaked, honey-coloured hair and kissed him back. “I know. I love you. Don’t forget it.”

Arthur smiled and nuzzled into Merlin’s neck falling into a deep, contented sleep.

-

Merlin padded barefoot into the living room, carrying two hot bowls of pasta, and trying to juggle the napkins and silverware. Arthur watched, amused, from his position on the couch, until one of the bowls wavered dangerously and he took it from Merlin’s arm.

“Thanks,” Merlin mumbled, setting everything down on the coffee table.

He plopped down beside Arthur, exhausted.

“Rough day?” Arthur asked, nudging Merlin with his shoulder.

“Tons of phone calls about my latest show. I didn’t think there would be so much buzz.”

Arthur snorted. “Be careful, Merlin. You’re becoming almost as successful as me.”

“Prat,” he said with a grin. “Forridel at the gallery told me today that they have some pieces already sold. Sight unseen.”

“They wouldn’t be bought by someone named Mordred, would they?”

Merlin laughed. “Are you still on that? It was weeks ago, Arthur!”

Arthur scowled but said nothing and opted for filling his mouth with bites of pasta.

They ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying the quiet of their apartment, respite from their busy days. When it was just the two of them, they ate on the couch, no matter how messy the food, because it was comfortable, familiar, and something they had started when they had first begun dating. Arthur, too used to sitting at the table in stilted silence and Merlin, too nervous about getting all the nuances and silverware wrong, having grown up with sitting on the floor most of the time, had led to truly awful dinners together in which Arthur barely talked and Merlin hands shook so badly he spilled everything. On their fifth date, if anyone could really call it that, and after a spectacular round of bedroom acrobatics, they had collapsed, hungry and sated, on the couch and had their best dinner to that date. The routine had evolved from there.

“Speaking of wedding planners,” Merlin said with a grin, “Myror called me today and said we needed to choose our wedding party.”

“Ah,” Arthur answered. He licked a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth and Merlin almost lost his train of thought. “I guess we should do that then.”

“He suggested each of us pick a best man and a maid of honor.”

“Alright then. I pick Leon and Morgana.”

“Okay. I pick Will and Gwen.”

Arthur gave Merlin a sharp look. “I’ll make sure he behaves!” Merlin said quickly. “I promise.”

“If he gets anywhere near me with a sharp object, I’m calling security,” Arthur said, dramatically waving his fork around, sending sauce all over the table.

“Fine,” Merlin said, stifling a laugh. “Diva.”

“Why you!” Arthur launched himself at Merlin, and Merlin fell backwards with a surprised cry as Arthur tackled him, pushed him down into the cushions of the couch with brute strength, hands wrapped around Merlin’s upper arms as Merlin giggled and squirmed beneath him.

“Take it back,” he growled, trapping Merlin with his weight, knees on either side of Merlin’s hips.

Merlin gasped, arching up, his body rubbing against Arthur’s in interesting and arousing ways. “Or what?” he challenged, but his cheeks were heating, and his pupils were wide and Arthur saw right through him.

“Or I am not going to fuck you right here and now.”

Arthur ground down and Merlin threw his head back and moaned.

“I’m not that easy, Pendragon,” he said, in between breathless pants.

Arthur smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He began to nip, teasingly, along Merlin’s throat, teeth skimming the pale, sensitive skin, tongue trailing languorously over Merlin’s collarbone where his shirt was skewed. He gently nipped at Merlin’s earlobe then licked the shell of it, letting out a bitten off moan right into his ear as he rocked heavily down.

“I take it back. I take it back.”

Arthur leaned in, nosed along Merlin’s ear and jaw. “Good,” he breathed and began to kiss Merlin in earnest.

-

After sex and dinner and then sex again, Merlin and Arthur decided to call Morgana and let her know that they had picked the wedding party. Which, in hindsight, was a bad idea.

“You can’t have Gwen without Lance,” she said over the speakerphone with an air of condescension that had Arthur rolling his eyes and Merlin biting his lip.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked.

“They’re married. If you have Gwen you have to have Lance in the party as well.”

“Fine,” Merlin said, “then Lance can be in the wedding party.”

“Well, now it’s uneven. You need another girl.”

Merlin and Arthur looked at each other and frowned. “We don’t know another girl,” Arthur said.

“Not one that could be trusted in a wedding party anyway,” Merlin continued. “They either all want to kill Arthur or sleep with him.”

“What about the woman from the gallery, Merlin? You’ve known her for years.”

Merlin knotted his fingers, nervously. “No. She kind of… uh well, doesn’t like Arthur all that much. Not since he said something not so flattering about a sculpture she did.”

“If she didn’t want to be critiqued then she shouldn’t have become an artist, really.”

“You said it looked like a dying turtle.”

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t?”

“Because the description said ‘Two Lovers Embracing.’”

Morgana snorted. “Of course. What about one of the stepmothers, Arthur? Sophia was always fond of you.”

“No!” He protested quickly and loudly. He shuddered as he remembered one very hot summer and a swimming pool and her making him rub sunscreen into her back in an attempt at seduction. He paled and Merlin rubbed his arm soothingly.

“Honestly, no female friends? Cousins? Aunts?” Morgana asked, bordering on exasperation.

“Well,” Arthur said thoughtfully, “Merlin does have that one cousin.”

“No!”

“Isn’t her name Freya? She’s studying somewhere near here, isn’t she?”

“Arthur,” Merlin warned.

“Yes. I think she’d be good. She’s only a little younger than us and she just _loves_ her cousin.”

“Arthur. I said no.”

“What am I missing here?” Morgana asked. “Does she hate you, Merlin?”

Merlin sighed. “No, she just has a bit of a crush.”

“How big of a crush?”

“She sobbed when Merlin came out,” Arthur said with a wicked grin.

“So did half of Britain when you did.”

“But I’m not related to half of Britain, am I?”

Merlin frowned as he heard Morgana’s futile attempt at hiding her giggles.

“It’s fine. I’ll ask my mum to ask her. That was years ago. I’m sure she’s moved on. Can we move on now, please?”

“Of course, darling. Let’s talk ‘official engagement announcement.’”

Merlin and Arthur both groaned. 

-

**Uther Pendragon of Camelot Industries Inc is proud to announce the engagement of his son Arthur Pendragon to Mr. Merlin Emrys, son of Balinor Emrys and Hunith Freebird of Ealdor. Arthur is also the son of the late Ygraine Pendragon. Arthur is the Vice President of Marketing at Camelot Industries and is a rising star in the business world. Merlin is an accomplished painter and his works can be seen in many galleries across London. A September wedding is planned.**

The picture attached was from one of Merlin’s gallery openings, both of them dressed in tuxes, Arthur’s arm casually draped across Merlin’s shoulders, and neither one of them was making a silly face.

Merlin wasn’t really expecting the reaction to the engagement announcement Morgana and Myror had drafted and put in the papers. He thought, that since Arthur had been out of the tabloids for several years, that it would be glossed over that he was getting married. Merlin, of course, turned out to be wrong.

The phone rang for what seemed like the millionth time that day and Merlin sighed. After accepting congratulations from Arthur’s first stepmother Catrina, and then his second, Helen and the third Sophia, and his own elderly uncle Gaius and his cousin Freya, whom he was sure was trying to hold back sobs over the line, he had given up with answering the phone.

After the thirty-ninth call, Merlin was beginning to regret their cheesy, joint phone message.

“You’ve reached Arthur,” it started in Arthur’s rich voice.

“And Merlin,” his voice interrupted. “We’re not home.”

“So leave us a message and we just might get back to you.”

“Cheers!”

“Arthur, this is your great aunt Gladys. I just read in the paper that you’re getting married! She sounds lovely dear. She must have had a bit of a cold on the message. But an artist! Merlin is such a strange name for a girl. I just bet she’s lovely though. What do you want for the wedding? And is the young dear going to have a shower? I’ll be sure to purchase her something lovely for the wedding night. Give your auntie Gladys a call when you get in, love. Bye bye.”

As soon as the message finished, and Merlin cleaned up the water in the kitchen from where he had spit it all out during the message, the phone started ringing again. After three rings, the machine picked it up again.

“You’ve reached Arthur.”

“And Merlin! We’re not home.”

“So leave us a message and we just might get back to you.”

“Cheers!”

“Merlin! It’s Gwen. Pick up!”

Merlin grabbed the phone from the cradle. “Hey Gwen.”

“Turn on channel six. Quick!”

Merlin dashed out of the kitchen, tripped over the coffee table and found the remote. He flicked it on.

The slim news hostess stood in front of the changing graphics screen in a very lime green dress.

“And in the variety news, ladies get out your hankies. Arthur Pendragon is officially off the market.”

They flashed a full blown picture of the one in the paper. Merlin dropped the remote.

“It was announced today that the former wild child will be marrying his partner of the last four years, successful artist Merlin Emrys. They’re planning a September wedding and it promises to be a veritable who’s who of the business world and art scene. Sources close to the couple say that they met with several wedding planners before picking an undisclosed individual. Arthur seems to be already living up to his diva status.”

Merlin snorted.

“We all remember Arthur from his wild clubbing days.”

Another picture flashed up of a very drunk, very young Arthur emerging from a club with girls under each arm. Merlin winced.

“But four years ago, after meeting Merlin in a club, he dropped out of the tabloids and the social scene. It seems settled life has been doing Arthur a load of good. Keep your eyes open for an invitation because this event promises to be a big one. We’ll be following this story as it progresses and will be making sure our viewers know all the dirty little details. Next up, pets who juggle…”

Merlin turned the tv off by stepping on the remote that was still on the floor and sunk into The Recliner.

“Merlin, are you there? Merlin?”

“Gwen. Was there really just a spot about our wedding on a tabloid news show?”

“Oh, sweetheart. There was.”

“I didn’t expect that.”

“I know. It’s okay though. It’ll be fine.”

“I…I…I have to go.” Merlin clicked off the phone and swallowed several times to keep the bile from rising in his throat. His dream for a small tasteful wedding with just a few friends had been shattered in a matter of a 90 second news report. He took off toward the freezer and flung open the door looking for the mint chocolate chip ice cream. He had one hand on the carton when the phone in his other hand rang again.

It startled him so badly he almost hurled it across the room. He let it go to the machine and really considered turning that off as well as Arthur’s voice filled the empty apartment.

“You’ve reached Arthur.”

“And Merlin! We’re not home.”

“So leave us a message and we just might get back to you.”

“Cheers!”

“Merlin! Pick up!”

Merlin scrambled and hit the button on the phone. “Arthur!”

“Merlin,” Arthur murmured in relief, “don’t freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Merlin protested quickly.

“You are freaking out,” Arthur countered. “I can hear it in your tone. Is there a carton of ice cream in your hand?”

Merlin looked down at the green carton and swallowed. “No?”

“You are a shit liar.”

Merlin set the ice cream down on the counter and rummaged in the silverware drawer for a spoon. “I am not.”

“That’s it, I’m coming home.”

“No, don’t. You don’t need to. I’m fine,” Merlin said ripping off the top and shoving his spoon in. “Really, it’s not necessary.”

Arthur hummed, not convinced at all. “It’s almost quitting time anyway, Merlin. What if I want to skip out early and come see my fiancé?”

“Arthur,” Merlin said around a mouthful of ice cream, “you’re sweet.”

“I’ll grab us some takeaway so quit eating the mint chocolate chip. You’ll ruin your dinner.”

Merlin swallowed. “Yes, mum.”

“Oh, I love it when you’re insolent,” Arthur said, voice low.

Merlin shivered. “Maybe you should come discipline me?”

There was a moment where Arthur didn’t respond and Merlin could picture him loosening his tie and gulping. “Insatiable,” Arthur said finally over the line. “Should I even bring home dinner? It will probably just grow cold.”

Merlin smiled, dropping his spoon onto the counter. “You should, keep your strength up and all.”

Arthur laughed. “I’ll be home in a bit, love.”

Merlin smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Merlin set the phone on the cradle and unplugged the answering machine. He put the top back on the ice cream and tossed it into the freezer. He was still uneasy, nervous at the prospect of his wedding being considered a huge social event that warranted tabloid coverage but Gwen and Arthur seemed confident that it wasn’t a big deal. He trusted them and if they weren’t worried then he needn’t be either.

-

If Merlin could snuggle a little closer to Arthur on the couch while watching the zombie movie Arthur had chosen, he would have but as it were, he was already smashed against Arthur’s side, Arthur’s arm holding him there as they watched yet another person turn into the undead. The movie was short on effects but big on blood and big-chested girls that could scream and Merlin found himself rolling his eyes more than startling from the surprise scare tactics the director was throwing at the audience. Horror movies were not his favourite but Arthur liked them and Arthur liked squeezing Merlin as tight as he could during them so, in the end, it was alright.

Merlin was just contemplating another cup of tea and some sweets when Arthur sighed, grabbed the remote and turned the volume down.

“Merlin,” he said in the voice that Merlin had come to associate with conversations that involved monumental life choices and food, “if you could have the perfect wedding, I mean absolutely perfect down to every detail, how would it go?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow and stared at the side of Arthur’s face. “Where is this coming from?”

He felt Arthur shrug. “I’m wondering. I know we’re going to have to make allowances for things and of course we’ll have to think practicalities and such but if none of that mattered…”

Merlin thought for a moment, bit his lip. He would be lying if he hadn’t thought about it some but…

“And no saying that it’ll be perfect because you are marrying me. That’s a given and it’s cheating.”

“Bollocks,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur smiled but kept his eyes on the movie. The brunette overweight girl was eating her skinny blonde friend’s arm.

“Do you remember our….” Merlin trailed off and counted in his head, “fourth date?”

Arthur shifted, brow furrowed. “Was that the park bench?”

“We met at the park for a walk and got all of fifty yards before we sat on the bench together and we just talked for hours.”

“I do remember that,” Arthur said, turning to look at Merlin for the first time in the conversation. “We watched the sun set and you had blue paint,” he lightly caressed the shell of Merlin’s ear with his finger, “right here.”

“And you were so obnoxious to the guy with the dog.”

“He was going to leave the…leavings…right there on the path! I had every right,” Arthur said, indignant.

Merlin laughed. “I can’t believe you’re still irate over it.”

“I can’t believe that you wore a paint spattered band t-shirt to our date.”

“Hey,” Merlin said, “I had just finished a painting that _you_ had inspired and I had lost track of time. You were lucky I even made it there and I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember that when I kissed you goodnight you tasted like mint because you had just shoved like four mints into your mouth.”

“Well, you didn’t even give me a warning; you just shoved your tongue in like a porn star.”

“Well, I’m sorry. You were being all flirty and shy and irresistible and I couldn’t not shove my tongue in your mouth and I have no idea what this has to do with what I asked you anyway,” Arthur countered with a pout.

Merlin smiled, leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Arthur’s lips. “That was the most comfortable I’d ever been with someone on a date. I just thought…that when you and I are…you know…I want it to feel like that, like I just spent hours sitting on a park bench with you and telling you everything about me and you still want to stick your tongue down my throat.”

Arthur’s features softened into something fond and a little besotted. “You really are a giant girl, aren’t you?”

“Fine then, what’s yours? If it were perfect, what’d it be like?”

Arthur shifted again and looked away to where the credits were rolling by on the screen to some metal band’s screechy anthem.

“It will be perfect because I’m marrying you,” he answered with a blush warming his cheeks.

Merlin hit him with the couch cushion.

-

Saturdays used to consist of lying in, eating brunch in the bed or on the couch or with both of them squashed into The Recliner half dressed (in which Merlin invariably dripped syrup onto Arthur’s bare chest and then would proceed to lick it off), lounging around in pyjamas and occasionally going on some harebrained adventure that was usually Arthur’s idea. Merlin missed those kind of Saturdays because now his Saturdays were filled with endless meetings about weddings.

Myror, Morgana, Leon, Gwen, and his cousin Freya were all in their apartment, gathered around the kitchen table talking while Will shouted things from Merlin’s phone speaker. Gwen was eating grapes because she was constantly eating nowadays and Arthur and Lance were both trying very hard to crane their necks toward the television to surreptitiously watch the match. They looked like very awkward swans.

Merlin was dressed despite protesting and doodling on his important wedding planner book that Morgana had purchased for him and why she hadn’t purchased one for Arthur made Merlin wonder about her perception of his and Arthur’s relationship.

“We should talk guest list,” Myror said clicking his pen and taking out his notebook, “and invitations.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, nodding, while coloring in a flower that was eating a shoe “um…what should we talk about?”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Who do you want to invite, Merlin?”

“Oh,” he straightened, “everyone here of course and Will.”

Myror unsuccessfully hid a smile. “It is generally presumed that those in the wedding party are invited to the wedding, Merlin.”

“Right,” Merlin said with blush. Arthur reached under the table and squeezed Merlin’s hand and cast a grin in his direction before cautiously tipping his chair back to get a better view of the telly.

“Ehm,” Merlin started again, “my parents, my Uncle Gaius, Forridel from the gallery…err, I think…”

Freya shyly mumbled something and everyone leaned toward her to straining to listen. 

“Oh, right! Our cousin Gilli. Thanks, Freya.”

Myror wrote down the names. “Is there anyone else? Arthur?”

Arthur flailed for a minute as he righted his chair. “Uh…”

“Guests, Arthur,” Morgana prompted.

“The three stepmoms. Uncle Tristan. Uncle Agravaine. Oh, my secretary Elena. And Gwaine.”

“Oh, yeah, Gwaine!” Merlin added. “He’s always fun and Percy! And Gwen’s brother Elyan.”

Arthur nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, and uh…I think that’s it. Right, Merlin?”

“Yeah, that’s enough.”

They both looked expectantly at the group who were all trying hard not to laugh. Gwen shoved more grapes into her mouth and Leon looked away, finding the bookcase suddenly interesting and even Freya was biting her lip. Lance had managed to contort himself into a painful looking position to watch the match and ignored them all completely.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“For fuck’s sake!” Will’s voice came exasperated over the line, “that’s all the people you know? You two are pathetic!”

“Will!” Gwen hissed. “Be more supportive.”

“No, Gwen. I can’t believe I am saying this but I agree with Will. They really are useless,” Morgana confirmed giving Merlin and Arthur a hard stare. She turned to Myror. “Get with Uther and Hunith and get your guest list from them.”

“Hold on,” Arthur interrupted, “Merlin and I only want a few people there.”

“I think the big question,” Will’s voice cut in, “is if I’m going to get a plus one.”

Arthur frowned. He leaned forward toward the phone that sat in the middle of the table. “You are _not_ bringing a hooker to our wedding, Will.”

“They prefer to be called professional dates.”

“Will,” Arthur said voice low and dangerous, “I will come through that phone and throttle…”

“Okay,” Myror stepped in smoothly, “let’s talk about the invitations. Usually, we use the full names of the grooms and the names of their parents. We’ll send out some save the date cards and then the invitations once location is decided upon. So, Arthur, full name.”

Arthur winced. “Arthur James Tristan Pendragon.”

Myror looked expectantly at Merlin. “Merlin?”

Merlin fidgeted and twisted his fingers together. He looked at Arthur then back at Myror. “Do you really need full names? Can’t we do initials?”

Arthur picked up immediately on Merlin’s unease. “Initials might be less cumbersome,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “My name is very long.”

“You know, Merlin,” Gwen said popping another grape into her mouth and frowning when she noted the bunch was empty, “I don’t know your middle name. Your cards just say Merlin S. Emrys. What’s the S stand for?”

Will burst out laughing.

“It’s Samuel, isn’t it?” Morgana asked. “That’s what you told me.”

“Right, it’s Samuel. Let’s move on. Myror, what exactly is a save the date card?”

“Wait a minute,” Morgana said shrewdly, “if it’s not Samuel, what is it?”

Merlin looked around the table vaguely panicked. “Gwen, need more grapes? I can get you more grapes…”

“Merlin!” Will admonished, his voice a mocking sing-song, “your mother will be sooo upset if you lie on your invitations. She named you after all.”

“Will,” Arthur said dangerously.

“I don’t get it. Merlin, what is so bad about your middle name?” Morgana asked. “Is it something embarrassingly hippie-ish?”

Merlin looked away and felt his skin flush.

“Oh my God, it is! Isn’t it?”

He squirmed in his seat despite the comforting hand Arthur had placed on the back of his neck.

Gwen reached over and patted his hand that was gripping his pen tightly enough to have ink leaking out onto his man-eating flower picture. “Tell us, Merlin. It can’t be that bad.”

Merlin sighed then muttered something too low for anyone to hear except Freya who clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.

“What was that, Merlin?” Will called.

“It’s Starshine, okay? My middle name is Starshine because my mother is a tree hugging weird woman who makes her own clothes and her own butter and who thought it would be fabulous fun to name her son Merlin Starshine Emrys. Happy?”

“Oh,” Morgana said commiserate and patronizing, “she didn’t give you a chance, did she?”

“Alright,” Arthur said standing, “that’s enough. Mock the Merlin time is over and so is this meeting. I’m sure you all have lives to get to. Myror, we will be in touch. Will, I’m hanging up on you.” Arthur snapped the phone shut. “Lance, go feed your wife before she eats all my grapes. Freya, it was a pleasure to meet you and feel free to come by any time.”

Merlin shot Arthur a glare and mouthed an expletive.

Everyone gathered their things and headed for the door. Myror and Morgana talking in some kind of wedding code while Lance continued to try and stare at the television even as Gwen was pushing him out the door complaining that she was starving. Leon, who had been a saint throughout the meeting, gave them a little sympathetic wave as he left. Morgana was last.

“Next Saturday is locations,” she said as she kissed them both on the cheek. “And start thinking about colours!” She called as she closed the door firmly behind her.

Arthur waited all of a second before he ran to the door and did up the five locks. Merlin stripped out of his shirt and shucked off his jeans before collapsing in a pile of limbs into The Recliner. Arthur ran over, stripping as he went until he too was down to his pants and wedged himself in with Merlin, panting.

“I think I’ve come to hate Saturdays,” Merlin bemoaned as they cuddled.

Arthur nuzzled into Merlin’s neck and sighed.

-

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: Colours

Merlin (and Arthur),

Gwen, Freya and I have been talking and we really need to know what colour dresses we will be wearing. It is a matter of great importance. Please hurry up and decide.

With all my Love,

Morgana

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: Colours

Morgana et al,

I don’t believe this is Saturday.

I’m working. Merlin is painting. Bugger off.

With love,

Arthur

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: re: Colours

Merlin is an artist. Colours should be easy.

Love,

Morgana

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: re: re: Colours

Merlin is a successful artist which means he’s quite busy. Your girly fashion problems will have to wait.

Arthur

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com, evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
From: hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com,

Subject: re: re: re: Colours

Arthur Pendragon! I am offended by your use of the demeaning adjective ‘girly’ and your general dismissal of the importance of colour in your own wedding. Now, tell my son to get out from under your desk and start working on this issue.

Peace, Love and Wind,

Hunith

 

To: hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com, evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com,

Subject: re: re: re: Colours

Mum! I’m at the studio working! I’ll think about colours when I have a break.  
Please refrain from making any insinuations otherwise!

~ M  
Sent from my Crackberry

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com,

Subject: re: re: re: Colours

Hunith,

I’m sorry for the flippant use of anti-feminist language in my earlier email. Merlin and I will discuss colours as soon as we have a moment.

Love,

Arthur

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: hahahahaahaha

I think the subject says it well enough.

~ Morgana

 

To: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com,  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: hahahahaahaha

Shut up, Morgana. Or you’ll be wearing cotton candy pink!

~ M  
Sent from my Crackberry

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: re: hahahahaahaha

I thought this _wasn’t_ Arthur and Merlin’s Big Gay Wedding Extravaganza!

(I bet you really are under Arthur’s desk, aren’t you?)

~ Morgana

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: re: hahahahaahaha

If Merlin was under my desk, do you think I would be responding to your emails?

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com,  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: re: re: hahahahaahaha

Don’t encourage her, Arthur!

(Miss you today)

~ M  
Sent from my Crackberry

 

To: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com, artmagic@yahoo.com  
From: gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: re: re: re: hahahahaahaha

Hello all,

I love you dearly but please stop clogging up my inbox. Unless Merlin has figured out the colours?

~ Gwen

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com

Subject: none

Miss you too.

Any ideas to get them off our backs about this? You know I’m rubbish with any type of artistic endeavors so I am trusting you completely on this one.

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com

Subject: re: none

I figured it out months ago. I’m just letting them stew.

~ M  
Sent from my Crackberry

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com  
From: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com

Subject: re: re: none

Devious! I knew there was a reason I fell madly in love with you.

I think you should let Morgana know though before she bursts a blood vessel and your mother makes more comments on our sex life. (Though I have a new fantasy of you under my desk.)

Arthur Pendragon  
VP of Marketing, Camelot Industries

 

To: APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com

Subject: re: re: re: none

Spoil my fun. I’ll let them know shortly. I’ll see you at home in a few hours.

(Now I’m having thoughts of sucking you off from under your desk during an important phone call. We will have to somehow make this fantasy a reality.)

~ M  
Sent from my Crackberry

 

To: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com,  
From: artmagic@yahoo.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: The Colours Reveal

Hello all,

Arthur and I have decided to use a fall colour scheme for our wedding. The colours will be brown, red (a berry colour not that horrid colour of lipstick Morgana wears) and orange.

More details to come later b/c I actually am working!

~ M  
Sent from under Arthur’s desk ;)

 

To: artmagic@yahoo.com, APendragon@CamelotIndustries.com  
From: evilsarcasticgirl@gmail.com  
CC: lady_of_thelake@yahoo.com, gwenandlance4ever@gmail.com, myror@weddingsplus.com, hunithfreebird@lovewindpeace.org

Subject: re: The Colours Reveal

See, that wasn’t so hard. It sounds beautiful.  
Thank you, Starshine!

Love,  
Morgana

-

Saturdays had become the day that Merlin and Arthur dreaded the most. They were supposed to be relaxing but they weren’t because now they were a day full of outings and fittings and decision-making. It wouldn’t have been too terrible if Saturday could just stay Saturday but it had begun to spread, bleed into Sunday, back up into Friday until they were at the point that Wednesday through Monday had become Saturday. (Tuesday had yet to be affected but Merlin was certain there would be an entire week of Saturdays at some point.)

Merlin and Arthur were two very busy people. Merlin was a successful artist about to have a gallery opening. Arthur was a vice president of a huge corporation. The time that they had together was limited and precious and preferably spent naked and cuddling or doing activities that led to naked and cuddling. Now, their limited and precious time was spent deciding on invitations and china patterns and flowers and other activities that couldn’t be done naked while cuddling.

Location finding was its own kind of special hell. Morgana and Myror dragged them both around the city and half the countryside to find the perfect spot for their nuptials. Morgana kept taking pictures with her phone and getting texted opinions, the most vocal (or textual) had been from Hunith who kept insisting on the outdoor locations. Arthur kept rolling his eyes and vetoing due to bugs.

After seeing the club, a few churches, a few parks, (“A barn, Morgana? Really?”) Merlin fell asleep in the back seat of the car; head nestled on Arthur’s shoulder, snoring softly into Arthur’s neck. Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s tousled hair and sighed.

“Are we almost done?” he asked. “As much as I love you being my chauffer, Morgana, I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

“One more stop, Arthur. This is the one. I’m sure of it.”

Arthur nudged Merlin awake. Merlin made a snuffling noise and buried deeper into Arthur’s chest. “Go away.”

“Hey, no sleeping on the job, Merlin.”

“If this were my job,” Merlin mumbled. “I’d kill myself.”

“That’s good to know,” Myror said cheerfully from the front seat. “One less competitor.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm before he could make a rude gesture.

Morgana pulled the car off the main highway onto a narrow uneven road that took them out into the countryside. They stopped in a gravel parking lot and Arthur heaved Merlin off of him.

“Get up, Merlin. It’s not cute any longer.”

Merlin rubbed his eyes. “You’re grumpy.”

“I didn’t get a nap.”

The foursome got out of the car and walked a few paces until Morgana pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

“It’s perfect! Don’t you think?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow and Arthur cocked his head to the side. It was certainly not perfect. It was a green hill with a heap of old moss covered stones in the shape of half a wall and part of a leaning decrepit structure.

Merlin turned away. “I’m getting back in the car.”

Arthur followed.

“You two are horrible! This is the most romantic location in all of Britain and you two are just so…” Morgana stomped her foot. “Arthur! What is wrong with it? Hunith loves it!”

Arthur stopped long enough to look over his shoulder. “Bugs, Morgana. It’s teeming with bugs.”

He got into the car, slid to the middle of the seat and cuddled with Merlin the whole ride back to the flat.

-

As a compromise, Merlin and Arthur decided to have the ceremony on a balcony at the Club and the reception in a hall that opened out onto a grassy lawn. Uther was pleased. Arthur didn’t have to deal with bugs if he didn’t want to and Hunith had plenty of access to fresh air and nature.

Merlin’s day had started off a Wednesday with some time in his studio and then with going to the gallery, but then it quickly became a Saturday when Morgana convinced him to go cake tasting with her, Gwen, Freya and his mother who had made the trip to the city. Arthur had to work late and was therefore exempt. Merlin didn’t quite believe that Arthur had to work late so he had sent Arthur a text message that demanded hot food and messy sex when he returned later that night. Merlin knew Arthur would deliver because he was fantastic like that and he looked toward the outing as a means to a happy end.

They met him at the gallery, the four of them giggling and happy like they were best friends. It made him instantly wary.

Morgana looped her arm through his and Gwen grabbed the other side like they were scared he was going to run away. (They were right to think that because he was just this side of bolting.) The group proceeded to leave the gallery and dragged Merlin down the street to a high-end bakery called Crystal Cave Sweets.

“Myror highly recommended them,” Morgana said as she pushed open the door. 

“They have a divine almond icing,” Gwen chimed. At Merlin’s confused look, she shrugged. “I read it in the pamphlet.”

Once inside, Merlin left the girls to oooh-ing and aaah-ing over the displays while he wandered in the small store front. He found a book of cakes and idly flipped through it until he found one that made his eyes widen and his mouth water. 

“That is the Camelot,” the shopkeeper that appeared next to Merlin’s shoulder said. He was an older man and his nametag read Taliesin. “It’s four layers of chocolate cake with white chocolate icing and dark chocolate ganache for the accents. The spires are actually molded white chocolate with dark chocolate icing to hold them together.”

“Arthur would love it,” Merlin said, awed. 

“Is Arthur your intended?” Taliesin asked. 

Merlin nodded and blushed. “Could I possibly have a picture of this to take home and show him?”

Taliesin smiled. “Of course. Let me get that for you.”

He moved away just as Merlin heard his name from across the shop. 

“Merlin!” his mother called. “Come here, darling. We’ve found the perfect one.”

“Actually, mum, I think…”

“It’s perfect!” Morgana crowed. She clapped her hands together. “I just know this will look gorgeous.”

Merlin gave a last longing glance to the cake in the binder before joining the group. An assistant, Alice, had another book and the four women were crowded around it. The page was open to a tall cake decorated with flowers and accents complete with a bride and groom standing on the top tier. 

“What do you think, Merlin?” Hunith asked, turning to her son with an expectant expression. 

Merlin looked at it. “It’s…nice.”

“Nice?” Morgana asked. “It’s beautiful.”

Merlin shrugged. “It’s ordinary.”

“It’s elegant,” Gwen corrected. 

Hunith tutted. “Oh, Merlin,” she sighed. She shared a commiserate glance with Alice. “It’s the wild artist temperament. It makes him picky.”

Sometimes Merlin wondered if his mother had ever met him. 

“I’m not picky!” he protested. 

“Why don’t you tell us what is wrong with it?” Freya suggested quietly. 

“Well,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “For one, I don’t think Arthur would appreciate the topper.”

The girls giggled and Merlin flushed, embarrassed, and uncomfortable under the knowing gaze of the assistant. 

“We can change that, Merlin,” Gwen said in a sweet almost patronizing way. 

He frowned and despite knowing that Gwen was just being her usual self, he bristled at her tone. He straightened his spine. “And actually I found one that I like just over there and…”

“And can we get it in the almond icing?” Morgan asked, cutting Merlin off and trailing her finger over the picture. 

“Oh yes,” Alice said. “And we’ll coordinate the accent flowers to the colours for the wedding.”

“Wait! Arthur is allergic to almonds.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. The almond icing is a favorite among our clientele,” Alice said with a forlorn expression. “And we have very important clientele.”

“We can get the almond icing and have another cake made for Arthur,” Hunith suggested. 

Merlin’s annoyance amplified. “No, we are not getting a cake that my future husband can’t even eat at his own wedding. Besides, I don’t want Arthur breaking out into hives when I smash it in his face.”

All eyes turned to him, appalled, like he had just suggested sacrificing kittens during the reception. He took a step back from the group, shocked at the force of five disapproving stares directed his way. 

“You are not smashing Arthur’s face in the cake!” Hunith admonished. 

Merlin gulped. “I thought it would be funny.”

“It’s awful, Merlin,” Gwen said. “If Lance had done that to me, I would have been furious.”

Merlin remembered Gwen’s wedding and the sweet, affectionate way she and Lance had fed each other their pieces of cake. He also remembered Arthur rolling his eyes all through the reception. 

“You’re not Arthur, Gwen. I think…”

“So, yes on the almond icing?” Alice asked, interrupting. Merlin wondered if she made commission on the damned almond icing. 

Merlin gulped again and began tugging at the neckline of his shirt. 

“Merlin,” Hunith said in her stern _I know you broke the antique lamp_ tone, “your guests will have traveled a long way to come see this wedding and I think it would be nice of you to think of them in this one decision.”

Merlin never did well under pressure. That wasn’t entirely true, he actually did great under pressure with his art and with Arthur, but in this case, with his mother and Morgana and Gwen all staring him down, Merlin flinched and decided a strategic retreat was in order. He caved. 

“Alright. Yeah. That’s fine.”

They all broke out into smiles and went back to discussing the cake and the wedding. Merlin barely listened as Morgana talked about the colours and how Hunith proudly said her son picked them himself, like it was some momentous accomplishment. Alice said something about instead of having two grooms at the peak, doing more flowers, and Merlin decided at that point to wander away again. 

Taliesin approached him a few moments later with the printed picture of the castle cake. 

“Here you are young, sir. Sorry about the wait. The printer was being temperamental.”

Merlin took it, stared at the chocolate monstrosity that Arthur would adore (and wouldn’t be allergic to) and sighed. 

“Thanks but it looks like we’ll be ordering something else.”

“Oh,” Taliesin said, surprised. He patted Merlin’s hand. “You hold onto that. Things can always be changed.”

Merlin forced a smile, folded the paper and slid it into his pocket. 

-

When Merlin returned to the apartment, he found himself immediately pushed against the door and Arthur’s hot, insistent mouth on his and Arthur’s hard body pressing against him. Arthur’s hands were under his shirt, skimming along his ribs before settling on his hips and squeezing. Arthur broke away from Merlin’s mouth and latched on to Merlin’s jaw, sucking and biting his way down the curve of Merlin’s neck. 

“What is this?” Merlin gasped as Arthur maneuvered his thigh between Merlin’s legs. 

“Messy sex, then hot dinner,” Arthur answered. 

“Oh.”

Arthur pulled away, red mouth open, panting but blue eyes sharp on Merlin’s face. 

“You look positively pitiful.”

Merlin shrugged. 

“Did cake tasting not go well?” Arthur asked softly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there but…”

“No,” Merlin forced a smile, “no, it went alright. We have a cake.”

“Don’t you think by now I know your real smile versus your fake one? What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Merlin assured. “You know, extended time with my mother and all.”

Arthur made his skeptical face but didn’t pursue it further. Instead, he nuzzled Merlin’s neck. “I made your favourite. Would you like it now or…” he moved his thigh meaningfully, “later.”

Merlin felt the tension he had carried back from the bake shop melt away underneath Arthur’s affection and he grinned. “We can always heat it up.”

-

Over the course of the next few months, Merlin’s life became an endless loop of work and wedding with little in between. His gallery showing loomed in front of him and he spent endless hours perfecting pieces, working with Forridel on lighting, design, framing and all the details for the opening. Mixed in were tuxedo fittings, appointments with the florist, the photographer, the caterer and so on and so forth. Merlin’s life became minutia. He was mired in it, exhausted and frayed and the only consolation he had was that in a few months, he would be married to Arthur, and his life could go back to sex in The Recliner on Saturday mornings. Until then, though, he was one more china pattern away from homicide. 

Arthur was not much better. He was spending later and later hours at work trying to get everything done because he was going to have a honeymoon, dammit, with Merlin for a month because he only planned to do the marrying thing once and he was going to do it right. Of course, that meant that every minute he was not sleeping he was working. 

Their life together became an exchange of “hellos” and “goodbyes.” When Arthur woke up in the morning, Merlin would already be gone. At night, Merlin would crawl into bed so exhausted his eyelids felt like lead. Arthur would follow sometime later and flop beside him headfirst into his pillow. Sex was reduced to trying to get each other off before either one of them fell asleep. 

It led to both of them being a bit tetchy and a little bit lost. 

What Merlin didn’t know was that the cake was the first in a long line of concessions. He didn’t know it then but he had given Morgana and his mother an inch. It was like sharks smelling blood in the water. 

Two and a half months left to go and Merlin was in his studio, frowning at his latest piece and wondering what the hell was wrong with it when his mobile rang. He took it from his pocket and grimaced when Morgana’s name flashed across the screen. 

“Yes, Morgana,” he sighed. 

“We have a problem with the bridesmaid dresses.”

Merlin rubbed a hand over his eyes so exhausted he felt like a pod person. “What kind of problem?”

“There is only one dress design that the three of us can agree on that will not only allow for Gwen’s expanding belly but will also be flattering on someone as short as Freya.”

“Alright,” Merlin said. “So?”

“It doesn’t come in the shade of berry that will match the colours you wanted.”

Merlin stared at his painting and considered throwing it in the bin. 

“I suppose we could have the fabric dyed,” Morgana mused as Merlin took a step back and squinted at the canvas. “Or we could wear chocolate dresses but that would look horrible on Gwen. The orange would just wash Freya’s complexion right out. Of course, we could try to find another dress that will look alright on the three of us but that could take weeks. It has already taken us weeks to find this one and… honestly, Merlin, are you even listening?”

Merlin resisted the urge to paint a large black x over the entirety of the painting. “Yes, Morgana. I’m just very busy…”

“I know. I’m only trying… Nevermind, Merlin. I know you’re busy. I’ll fix it.”

She hung up before Merlin could respond. 

-

They were all shoved into Merlin’s and Arthur’s apartment. Their apartment was by no means tiny but when bridesmaids, groomsmen, parents, and Myror were all together discussing last minute preparations, it was suffocating. Arthur was squished with Merlin in The Recliner because everyone else refused to sit in it. He didn’t mind though, it was the closest he had been able to get to Merlin in weeks, and drained as Merlin was, he melted against Arthur. His eyes were closed and his head was nestled in the crook of Arthur’s neck. Arthur gently traced a cheekbone with his fingertips.

“Alright,” Myror said, addressing the crowd, cutting off all the side conversations, “we have two months until the wedding. And there are a few things that we have to finalize and confirm at this time. The first is the guest list. Hunith and Uther have given me four hundred and eight people they wish to invite.”

Arthur choked on his water. 

“Four hundred and eight! Are you serious?” 

“At last count,” Myror said, flipping open his Emrys/Pendragon wedding book and nodding, “yes.”

“Merlin and I don’t even know four hundred people.”

“Arthur,” Uther admonished, “many of my colleagues want to see my son get married. It’s only polite to invite them.”

Hunith, who was sitting beside Uther at the kitchen table, nodded in agreement. 

“Does that include my plus one?” Will asked. 

Merlin tiredly waved his hand. “Not now, Will.”

“Right,” Myror said, “I’ll put the guest list on our agenda to discuss. Now, with the late change in colour scheme, it has put a rush order on…”

Merlin perked up. “What do you mean change in the colour scheme?”

Morgana jumped up from her bar stool at the kitchen island and beamed proudly. “Don’t you remember our conversation about the dresses, Merlin?” she asked as she strode to the hall closet. Merlin looked confused. “No matter. All you need to know was that the only sensible solution was to get the dress in a colour it did come in.” She pulled a garment bag out and unzipped it to reveal a very red dress with gold accents. “Isn’t it lovely?”

“It’s red,” Merlin said flatly. Arthur knew that tone. It was Merlin’s _I’m angry but trying to be polite_ tone. 

She nodded, oblivious. 

“And gold.”

“Like the Pendragon crest. Oh, I approve,” Uther said eagerly. 

“What about the Emrys crest?” Hunith asked loudly. 

“We don’t have a crest, mum.”

“Why is it red?” Arthur asked. 

Before Morgana could answer, Merlin’s mobile started ringing. He opened his eyes and squirmed against Arthur trying to get it out of his pocket. Once freed, Merlin looked at the screen and smiled. 

“It’s Dad,” he said, the most excited Arthur had heard him in weeks. Merlin stood, flipped his phone open and wandered off to the bedroom leaving Arthur to deal with the horde. 

Arthur tried to keep up with the conversations being held around him but his father and Hunith were arguing over seating arrangements and Gwen was discussing the cut of the bridesmaid dress while Lance kept refilling her bowl with whatever food he had in reach and Will was hitting on both Morgana and Freya. Arthur decided it was too much and he wilted back into The Recliner waiting for Merlin’s return. 

He didn’t have to wait long. 

Merlin came back, still on his mobile, his other hand pressed to his free ear to drown out the noise. His skin was flushed and Arthur could recognize the agitation in his gait. It was Merlin’s stress-pace, the one he did during uni at the end of term when he was overwhelmed and he couldn’t cope or when he had a deadline for work and a painting was being particularly difficult. Arthur was familiar with that walk. He had seen it several times over the years and even more lately as the wedding and the gallery opening approached.

Arthur could usually address the stress-pace with a well-aimed tackle to the floor and a tickle fight or a massage that would lead to a round of enthusiastic sex. Of course, Arthur couldn’t very well tackle Merlin with everyone present so he was reduced to watching and waiting to find out the disaster that caused it. 

“Can’t you push it back?” Merlin asked into the phone, his voice quaking. 

All conversations around him ceased. 

“Dad, we’ve had it planned for… I know you wouldn’t miss it if it wasn’t important but...”

Arthur stood up, leaned in close to Merlin and put a hand on his shoulder. Merlin looked at him, eyes sad, mouth downturned. 

“Yeah. I understand. Love you, too. Okay.”

Merlin hung up, his gaze on the floor. He cleared his throat. 

“Dad’s not coming.” Merlin swallowed. “He’s got a thing somewhere and it conflicts.”

Arthur pulled Merlin into a hug and Merlin sagged into Arthur’s embrace. 

“Oh Merlin,” Hunith said. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin rested his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder, his hands fisted in Arthur’s jumper. He took a deep shaky breath. 

“Well, at least the guest list is one shorter,” Merlin said. 

Arthur clutched him tighter, knowing how much Merlin hurt from Balinor’s carelessness and Arthur _hated_ it when Merlin hurt. He carded his fingers through Merlin’s hair, nuzzled into his neck and just held him while Merlin composed himself. Merlin took a few more deep breaths, furtively wiped at his eyes, before he pulled away and addressed the onlookers. 

“Well,” Merlin said, “it’s not like he’ll be missing my wedding anyway.” He turned to Arthur. “I’m going for a walk.”

Arthur was stunned. 

Merlin left, forgetting his jacket and probably his wallet, softly closing the door behind him. 

Arthur looked at the others. 

“What the hell did that mean?” he demanded. 

Hunith and Morgana looked vaguely guilty. Gwen, who always wore her emotions on her sleeve, bit her lip and refused to meet Arthur’s gaze. 

Arthur knew he had been absent in most of the decisions, trusting them to Merlin because he knew Merlin and Merlin knew him and Arthur knew that Merlin wouldn’t allow it to become Merlin and Arthur’s Big Gay Wedding Extravaganza. Except, Merlin had a tendency to avoid conflict when it came to Hunith and Morgana could steamroll anyone once she had her mind set on something and dear God, Arthur had thrown Merlin to the wolves. 

“Right,” Arthur said sternly. “Fix it. Whatever it is, fix it.”

“Now, Arthur, be reasonable, it was just the cake,” Hunith said. “As a group we decided that the almond icing…”

“I’m allergic to almonds,” Arthur said automatically. 

“Yes! We know! And this way Merlin won’t shove the cake in your face,” Gwen added. 

“If Merlin wants to shove cake in my face then you very well let him!” Arthur snapped. “What else?”

“The colours,” Morgana said softly, looking pained. 

“And the flowers,” Freya added. “Merlin wanted pumpkins since it was fall but we talked him out of it.”

Arthur’s stomach began to sink. 

“And the caterer.”

“And the band.”

“Alright,” Arthur said interrupting, the sinking feeling now a full-out plummet. “This is what is going to happen. There are going to be two-hundred people at his wedding, no more. Figure it out and don’t you dare cut anyone that Merlin or I have put on the list. Second, every decision that can be reversed is to be reversed. Understand? And I don’t care if it has already been ordered. If we have two cakes then we have two cakes.”

Arthur took a deep breath. “Merlin’s opening is in two weeks and no one is to bother him about any wedding decisions until after.”

Everyone nodded though Arthur could see the protest written in Morgana’s expression. 

“You are all to attend the opening, properly dressed,” Arthur continued, his gaze cutting over to Will who scowled, “and you are going to support him like friends and family should. Am I clear?”

There was a collective mutter of agreement from the guilty parties. 

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s jacket because he knew that even though it was July, Merlin would get a chill from the rain. He slipped on his own and slid his keys and mobile into his pocket. 

“See yourselves out,” he said before leaving the flat, intent on finding Merlin. 

-

Arthur didn’t have to look long. He was on their bench in the park staring out onto the green landscape. There was a family picnicking, eating and laughing and throwing a Frisbee for their dog even in the slight drizzle and Merlin was staring past them, lost in thought. 

“Hey,” Arthur said, sitting next to him. 

Merlin looked up and gave a weak smile. “Hey.”

Arthur held out the jacket and dropped it over Merlin’s drooped shoulders. “Put this on before you get a chill.”

Merlin shrugged into it. “Thanks.”

Arthur sat next to Merlin in silence, both of them looking out to the green. Arthur refrained from speaking knowing that Merlin would talk in his own time. He had learned that over their years together, just as he knew the way Merlin took his coffee and the contours of his face when he smiled. 

They stayed that way for a few long minutes before Merlin sighed. 

“I don’t want to get married,” he said softly, looking down at his hands. 

Arthur swallowed, throat suddenly tight. 

“You don’t?” he asked gently. 

Merlin shrugged. “We were happy not married and ever since the announcement, well, we’ve not been.”

“It’s just the stress, Merlin. Once we get through the gallery opening and the wedding, we’ll be back to ourselves.”

Merlin shook his head. “It’s not that. I can handle stress.”

Arthur bit his tongue. It wasn’t the right moment to remind Merlin of the many times he had been reduced to a sobbing paint-splattered mess during uni because Merlin would then remind Arthur of the many times he had become a raging bastard in the midst of his accounting courses. 

Merlin continued, still not meeting Arthur’s eyes, gaze fixed on his feet. “I don’t feel like we need to enter the traditional bonds of marriage.”

Arthur frowned. His insides _hurt_ and he wanted to curl up in a ball, wrap his arms around his middle, and try to keep it all from spilling out. He couldn’t, though, stuck on that bench in the spitting rain and the hurt and the indignation quickly morphed into anger. 

“You sound like your mother,” Arthur bit out. 

Merlin wilted forward, head in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. “And you want to be your father.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you were the one that pushed marriage. Just because your father has been married four times doesn’t mean you need to be. We were happy without it.”

“Well, pardon me for wanting to be bound to the person I love.” Arthur shifted on the bench, back straightening, running a hand through his hair, wet from the drizzle. “I thought you wanted it. You said yes.”

“Because there was only so many times I could say no before you’d leave. Right?”

Arthur threw up his hands. “I know that you’re angry about your father but you don’t have to take it out on me!”

“I’m not angry about my father,” Merlin said, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The rain pattered on his jacket, beading up along his shoulders, damp hair falling into his face. 

“Merlin! You’re allowed to be mad. The man _abandoned_ you and your mother and left you with a commitment phobia and your mother a raving hippie bent on free love.”

Merlin stood up abruptly, hands clenched into fists. “Don’t talk about my mother! Not wanting to marry you is my own decision. I can make those without parental input, unlike you.”

Arthur stood as well, facing Merlin on the path, the asphalt slick under their feet. “What is _wrong_ with you? You want an out, that it? Marriage too tricky to get out of if you feel the need to run?”

“That was one time! It has nothing to do with this!”

“Actually, it does!” Arthur said, voice raised in a shout. “You’re standing there telling me you don’t want to get married so what else am I supposed to assume? God, Merlin. Am I one screw up away from you taking off? Is that how cracked this relationship really is?”

“No, Arthur! I want to be with you!” Merlin yelled back. “That doesn’t have to mean marriage!”

The light rain turned into a downpour, soaking them both as they stood facing each other. Merlin looked fragile, eyes too bright, hair plastered to his head. 

“Whatever, Merlin.” Arthur said, looking off toward the family who were shrieking with laughter and playing in the rain. “Do what you want.” Arthur shook his head, droplets of rain clinging to his fringe and eyelashes. “I’m going home.” Arthur turned on his heel and walked back the way he came. 

-

When Arthur arrived at the flat, everyone had gone. There was a note from Myror about the changes that Arthur skimmed and another from Hunith apologizing for her role in the fiasco. She wished Merlin and Arthur all the happiness and Arthur huffed. 

He was soaked and chilly so he took a hot shower. He watched some telly. He made some dinner and watched more telly, keeping one eye on the door, waiting for Merlin to return. The hours went by slowly and before long, Arthur was yawning and heading to bed. He placed his mobile on his night table in case he received a call. He snuggled down into the bed, pulling the blankets up to his ears. He spared one last glance at Merlin’s cold and empty spot and rolled the other way. 

-

Arthur awoke to the sound of someone stumbling around the flat. He heard a squelch, then a thump, and a curse in an unmistakable voice. Arthur buried his face in his pillow when the bedroom light flared to life. 

“Arthur,” Merlin tentatively called. 

Arthur groaned. 

“Arthur, you awake?”

“I am now,” he muttered. 

Arthur cracked his eyes open and rolled to his side. 

Merlin stood next to the bed, soaked and dripping, shivering with his arms wrapped around his torso like he was trying to hold himself together. His jeans were barely held up on his hip bones and his shirt was so wet, it was transparent. He gave Arthur a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes and he looked around the bedroom like he was lost, like it wasn’t somewhere he was supposed to be. 

Arthur resisted the urge to grab Merlin and haul him in the bed and cuddle him until he looked like he was supposed to. He almost gave in but then he remembered how hurt he was. 

“Hi,” Merlin finally said. 

Arthur sighed. “Hi.”

Merlin fidgeted. “I’ve been out walking. Thinking,” he said. 

Arthur swallowed, wondering what it meant, but he remained silent. They had a history of arguments and reconciliations, just like every normal couple, and it wasn’t the first time Merlin had left for hours, but this felt different somehow, more serious, like it could be a possible ending instead of a continuation. 

Merlin clutched at his jacket, rivulets of water running down his neck, over his collarbone. He sniffed once before doubling over, sinking to his knees and letting out a hitched sob. 

“Arthur, I’m such an arse. I’m so sorry.”

Arthur immediately sat up in bed, swung his legs over the side and dropped to the floor. 

“Oh Merlin,” he said, scooting closer, his bare legs brushing against Merlin’s wet denim. 

“God, Arthur. You’re right. It’s the stress. I feel so disconnected from you. I don’t see you. We barely talk. We haven’t had sex in weeks and I just want our lazy Saturdays back. I’m making all these plans for a wedding and I don’t even feel like I know who I’m marrying anymore.”

“You could’ve said, Merlin. You didn’t need to try and do everything by yourself.”

Merlin wiped at his eyes. “You’ve been working.”

Arthur let out an irritated grunt. “Yes, well, I could’ve been more helpful.”

“I should’ve asked,” Merlin said. He shifted around on the floor, pulled his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them. “I’m sorry,” he reiterated, voice thick. 

Arthur reached out, lightly touched the nape of Merlin’s neck, his fingers warm against Merlin’s chilled skin. 

“I’m sorry, too.” Arthur moved closer, draped his arms around Merlin’s shoulders in an awkward hug. “We’re quite the pair. You tackle too much until it completely overwhelms you and I fool myself into thinking I’m not hiding from the problem until it slaps me in the face.”

Merlin let out a sound that was a half-chuckle, half-sob. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Me too.”

They snuggled closer, despite the fact that Arthur’s shirt and pants were getting soaked and Merlin was still shivering slightly. 

“Arthur?”

“Hmmm?”

Merlin lifted his head and for the first time since the argument, met Arthur’s gaze. His eyes were blue and solemn. 

“Arthur, will you marry me?”

“Of course I’ll still marry you.”

Merlin shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. You asked me first, took me to dinner, got on one knee but I never…well, I said yes, but I never got to ask you. I know it’s not ideal circumstances but, Arthur, I do want to be with you. Forever. Because I love you.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, leaning in, his lips brushing against Merlin’s jaw. “I can’t imagine being without you.”

Merlin smiled. Arthur was sure it was the first time he had in the hours since his father’s call. 

“I don’t have a ring,” Merlin said, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a wet folded piece of paper. “But I have something you’ll love.”

Arthur unfolded the fragile paper slowly, mindful not to tear it. It was a water-logged picture of a chocolate castle cake monstrosity complete with turrets and towers and written below it, in Merlin’s recognizable scrawl, was the sentence: _Perfect for Arthur because he is a chocolate fiend and he can stab Will with a turret if needed._

Arthur chuckled. “You know me too well.”

“I wanted it for the reception but was outvoted. I’m going to order it anyway and let my mother and Morgana freak out when they see it.”

Arthur smiled, warmth and fondness settling through him, easing the hurt and the dread that had filled him hours before.

“Only if we can get it with a chocolate sauce moat.”

“And a chocolate bar for the drawbridge,” Merlin agreed. 

Arthur nodded before leaning in and kissing Merlin’s cheek. He folded the picture carefully and placed it on the nightstand. “Come on,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling Merlin up. “Let’s get dry and in bed. It’s late and we have nowhere to be tomorrow.”

Merlin yawned as he stood and leaned into Arthur, resting his wet head on Arthur’s shoulder. “I thought you were working. I know I have some wedding things…”

“Already taken care of. I’m not going to work and you and I are going to stay in bed all day.”

Merlin’s hands rested tentatively on Arthur’s chest, fingers trembling. “All day?”

Arthur caught Merlin hands in his own, wrapping his fingers around Merlin’s chilled ones. He skimmed his nose along Merlin’s cheekbone, before pressing a kiss behind Merlin’s ear. 

“All day,” he murmured. “I think we have some spectacular make-up sex to have.”

Merlin trembled. “Well, then. What are we waiting…”

Arthur cut him off with a kiss, catching Merlin’s lips with his own, earning a surprised gasp and then a low moan as he slid his tongue into Merlin’s mouth. They kissed for a long minute, Merlin’s hands sliding slowly over Arthur’s shoulders and arms as if relishing in the warmth of Arthur’s skin. Arthur managed to divest Merlin of his clothing while kissing him before tumbling both of them into the bed. 

-

Merlin and Arthur’s argument in the park had been very public and very loud and some entrepreneurial individual managed to catch it on their mobile and sell it to the tabloid news. So the next morning, Merlin and Arthur were inundated with urgent calls and text messages from friends and family. They ignored them all, opting to stay in bed to continue making up with each other. 

Morgana cottoned on after her first five texts went unanswered and sent a sixth and final that merely stated, “I hope the sex is fantastic.”

She must have told the others, and Merlin could only be slightly mortified about everyone discussing their sex life, because the texts and calls ended shortly after.

The day was exactly what they needed. They ate cereal for breakfast and takeout for lunch and dinner. They fed each other with their hands, Arthur slurping noodles from Merlin’s fingers and Merlin dropping vegetables on Arthur’s chest to laugh at his affronted expression. They watched the telly nestled against each other, arguing over the remote and making up dramatic dialogue that had them both giggling so hard they could scarcely catch their breath. 

And they had sex- for hours - rocking together, moaning and whispering ridiculous endearments, mouthing them into the hollows and slopes of their bodies, pressed so close they couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.

Afterwards they napped, curled around each other, limbs tangled, sweat-soaked and sated, skin sticking to skin, reveling in the closeness and the heat, the thick atmosphere they created under the sheets. 

Merlin lovingly traced his fingers over Arthur’s profile, from his forehead to his chin, catching once on Arthur’s parted lips when Arthur flicked them with the tip of his tongue. 

“I love you,” Merlin said, softly, his body molded to Arthur’s side. 

Arthur smiled, drowsy, eyes closed. 

“I love you too,” he answered. “Almost as much as I love chocolate cake.”

Merlin laughed, ducked his head into Arthur’s shoulder, and smacked him with a pillow.

-

Two weeks later, Arthur, dressed in a tux, stood with a flute of champagne in his hand and watched proudly as Merlin’s opening went spectacularly. All their guests attended and all of them were properly dressed, even Hunith who had traded in her normal homespun clothes for an elegant evening dress. Will still wore jeans but he had a suit jacket and a tie and that was enough for Arthur. 

It was nearing the end of the night and Arthur watched as Merlin strategically mingled with his guests at the gallery. He was smiling as he shook hands, looking more relaxed than he did four hours ago when he was threatening to vomit in the bathroom. Forridel hovered behind him, remarking on Merlin’s genius and talent, while Merlin blushed a vivid endearing red at the compliments. 

Between that and the tux Forridel had forced him into that highlighted his tall slim figure and the hairstyle that Morgana had artfully given him with copious amounts of product (she called it a messy-artist look, Arthur thought it was more of a just-been-fucked look), Arthur had a hard time looking away from his soon-to-be husband. 

In fact, the more he watched and the more Merlin smiled and waved at him, and then explained something enthusiastically about his work where his hands flailed and his eyes shined, the more warmth flooded Arthur and he knew, right then, that he didn’t want to wait anymore. He suddenly thought of an idea, and the more he thought about it, the more he _wanted_ it and the more he knew it would be absolutely _perfect_. 

Idea firmly in his head, Arthur quickly walked around the gallery until he found Leon. He pulled him away from some bird he was flirting with, Leon giving him an evil look when he interrupted, but it didn’t stop Arthur from tugging him to a relatively private corner. 

“What has gotten into you?” Leon asked. “I’m not beating someone up for flirting with Merlin if that’s your problem.”

Arthur straightened. “That was _one_ time.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” Arthur amended, “three times but this is different.”

“Alright, what is going on?”

Arthur smiled. 

-

After the last of the guests had left and Merlin had received hugs and handshakes from all those invited, even Uther, (who had bought yet another painting to add to his collection in his office and didn’t that make Merlin feel ridiculously happy), he slumped into a chair with a pilfered bottle of champagne and took one long swig. 

Forridel was locking up and Merlin was just at that stage of exhausted that he felt giddy even without the champagne. It was probably a bad idea to drink more since he held his liquor about as well as a leaky bucket but it didn’t stop him from taking another sip anyway. He decided that celebrating was in order. 

It had been a perfect night. 

Will hadn’t had a drink poured over him by some affluent woman because he managed to say the wrong thing… again. His mother hadn’t gone around telling everyone that Merlin was her son and he cried at Bambi and sucked his thumb until he was eight. Gwen managed not to eat everything and Lance valiantly attempted to be interested instead of trying to watch some sports match on his phone or someone else’s phone that had better picture quality. (Lance had been slapped once for peering over someone’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of some game’s score and the woman had assumed he was looking down her dress. That, thankfully, had only happened twice.) The one hiccup had been that Mordred had shown up but somehow Freya had stepped in and distracted him the whole evening and Mordred only once creepily touched Merlin’s arm and thankfully it had been one of the few times that Arthur had not been watching. 

All in all, Merlin called the night a success.

He leaned back in the chair and took another long gulp of champagne. 

“Go easy on that,” Arthur said as he approached. “We both know how silly you become on too much champagne.”

Merlin smiled, fondly. 

“Hi there,” he greeted. 

Arthur laughed. “Oh, no. How much have you already had?” He took the bottle from Merlin’s grasp and shook it. It was half empty. “Do I have to pour you into a cab to get you home?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, but I may need some help standing.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but easily pulled Merlin to his feet and swung Merlin’s arm over his shoulders. Merlin leaned into him and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s ear. 

“I’m so happy that it is over,” Merlin whispered. “It went well, don’t you think?”

Arthur hummed in agreement. “It went amazingly. You are amazing and now you can relax for a bit.”

Merlin sighed in bliss, becoming loose-limbed at the thought of actually relaxing. He leaned heavily into Arthur’s side. “The thought of being able to sit on the couch in nothing but pants eating ice cream from the carton and watching bad telly is making me hot.”

Arthur laughed and ruffled Merlin’s hair. “I love you, you ridiculous man.”

Merlin allowed Arthur to lead him from the gallery, the door automatically locking behind them. Arthur still had the bottle of champagne in one hand, the other was pressed firmly to the small of Merlin’s back. He guided Merlin down the pavement in the direction of the park. 

Merlin chattered along the way talking about the paintings that sold, the ones that didn’t, how his mother didn’t buy one but Arthur’s father did, how Will had actually been agreeable, and how Forridel had been so pleased with the outcome. Merlin stumbled in Arthur’s side on purpose and he knew Arthur knew it was somewhat intentional by the sly smile Merlin threw in his direction. 

“I saw how you watched me all night you overprotective sod.”

Arthur huffed. “You must have been looking at me to know that I was looking at you.”

Merlin laughed. “I always look at you, especially when you are all dressed up. Your arse looks fantastic in those trousers.” Merlin tugged on Arthur’s tie. “Besides, everyone looks at you. You stand out.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, the twig with the ears.”

Arthur chuckled. “I happen to love twigs with ears especially ones named Merlin.”

Merlin felt his heart stutter and he leaned in, brushed a kiss across Arthur’s cheek. 

“You were right,” Merlin said, suddenly serious. 

Arthur stopped. “I was right? Wow. I think I need to document this rare event.”

Merlin snorted. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” Arthur countered. “I need a pen to write down the day and time so years from now I can look back on this day and say on this day at this time Merlin said I was _right_.”

“Oh shut up,” Merlin said, knocking his shoulder into Arthur’s. “I should never have said anything.”

“You should say everything about me being right.”

They started walking again, Merlin lacing his fingers with Arthur’s and sliding them into his pocket. 

“I’m happy, Arthur.” 

Merlin kept staring straight ahead and let the statement hang between them in the light of the streetlamps. He saw Arthur swallow hard. 

“Good,” Arthur said. “I’m happy too.”

Merlin couldn’t help the wide grin that bloomed across his face. 

-

Arthur led them to the park and Merlin didn’t question it. They walked the small path to the bench where they had their fourth date and was the site of their epic argument. Arthur sat down and pulled Merlin down to sit next to him. He kept their fingers laced and took a few deep breaths as they sat in silence in the dim light of the stars and the streetlamps looking out onto the grassy hill. 

“Do you remember what you told me your perfect wedding would be?” Arthur asked softly. 

Merlin nodded. “Right here. Just you and me.”

Arthur let out a relieved sigh and Merlin cast him a sidelong glance. 

“Arthur?” Merlin asked. 

“Just sit here and don’t turn around. Okay?”

Arthur watched as Merlin physically resisted the urge to look behind him and instead straightened. His fingers flexed around Arthur’s. 

“Alright.”

There were a few minutes of tense silence and Arthur could feel his palm begin to sweat against Merlin’s skin and he tightened his grip until he saw Merlin grimace. Before he could apologize, a voice came from behind them that startled them both. 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys in marriage. No other human ties are more tender and no other vows more important than those you are about to take. Both of you come to this day with the deep realization that the contract of marriage is sacred as are all of its obligations and responsibilities.”

The officiant paused and Merlin turned wide liquid eyes at Arthur, mouth open, and cheeks flushed with champagne and surprise. 

Arthur offered a tentative smile which Merlin returned with a breathless little laugh. 

“Do you Arthur take Merlin to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

“I do,” Arthur said evenly. He looked down, flushing, unable to keep Merlin’s gaze, and a smile breaking out. He let out a giddy little chuckle. He took a deep breath and met Merlin’s eyes again, his lips twitching with another smile. 

“Do you Merlin take Arthur to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do you part?"

“I do,” Merlin answered. Arthur’s happiness was infectious and Merlin made a poor attempt at remaining solemn, his own breathy laugh bursting from him. 

“The rings, please,” the officiant said. 

Leon appeared at Arthur’s shoulder and passed off Merlin’s ring, giving Merlin a wink and a smile. 

Arthur fiddled with the gold band while the officiant continued. 

"Wedding rings are made precious by our wearing them. Your rings say that even in your uniqueness you have chosen to be bound together. Let these rings also be a sign that love has substance as well as soul, a present as well as a past, and that, despite its occasional sorrows, love is a circle of happiness, wonder, and delight. May these rings remind you always of the vows you have taken here today.”

Arthur took Merlin’s hand and slid the ring down his finger. “Merlin, with this ring, I thee wed.”

There was a nudge to Merlin’s shoulder and he turned slightly to find Will standing there. 

“Here you go, mate,” Will said with a rakish grin, handing Merlin the ring he had picked for Arthur. 

Merlin gulped. 

He took Arthur’s hand in his and with trembling fingers managed to get the ring on. 

“Arthur, with this ring, I thee wed.”

Arthur looked down at his hand in almost wonder, thumbing the band now firmly on his finger, and smiling softly. 

“I know pronounce you newlyweds,” the officiant proclaimed. “You may kiss.”

Merlin surged forward, catching Arthur’s lips in a desperate and happy kiss. His shaking hands found purchase in the lapels of Arthur’s tux. Arthur’s mouth was as insistent as Merlin’s, his fingers threading through Merlin’s hair. 

“I love you,” Merlin gasped. “I love you. I love you.”

“I’m glad,” Arthur said into Merlin’s mouth. “I’m so glad you’re happy.”

They kissed for far longer than what was totally appropriate for a wedding (with far more tongue and far more lewd nosies) but neither cared until someone cleared their throat. 

Merlin pulled away, lips tingling, cheeks hot, happiness and arousal thrumming through him like a second heartbeat as he finally looked behind the bench. 

There was Myror with an older man with a long beard. Leon and Will stood close by as witnesses. 

“I can’t believe you planned this,” he said to Arthur. 

Arthur shrugged. “Myror just happened to know an on-call officiant.”

Myror smiled. “This is Geoffrey and he has a few things for you to sign and then we’ll file the certificate.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said sincerely. “This couldn’t have been more perfect.”

Will stepped forward, holding a bottle of champagne he most certainly nicked from the gallery and a few glasses. 

“Let’s have us a drink to celebrate, shall we?”

Merlin accepted a glass and leaned forward to nuzzle at Arthur’s ear. “Thank you,” he whispered. “This was brilliant.”

“Thank you for marrying me,” Arthur whispered back. “It won’t always be rainbows and kittens but I promise you that I will love you forever.”

“And I promise you that when we get home that I am going to make you the happiest husband _ever_ ,” Merlin whispered, his breath a hot and filthy gust in Arthur’s ear. 

Arthur sucked in a breath. “Insatiable.”

-

Merlin and Arthur decided not to tell anyone about the park-bench wedding other than those involved. Arthur threatened Will with a slow and painful death if he so much as breathed a word to Hunith and Merlin asked Leon politely not to tell anyone. Myror swore to secrecy and Geoffrey merely smiled and agreed to officiate the other ceremony. 

A month later, everything went about as well as could be expected. 

Someone spilled some water from the flowers that decorated the room where Arthur and Merlin were to exchange vows. The water puddled in the middle of the aisle and Morgana fell as she walked down, her high heels slipping right out from under her, her Pendragon-red dress flying up and giving everyone a show. She dropped her bouquet that somehow involved a pumpkin which splattered onto the hem of Great Aunt Gladys’s dress. (She still thought Merlin was a girl right up until the point in which Merlin and Arthur kissed and passed out and had to be tended to by a very reluctant Lance.)

Leon helped Morgana to her feet as best as he could for someone stricken with food poisoning from the rehearsal dinner the evening before. He was pale and trembled standing next to Arthur, clamping his mouth shut because, as he had told Will a few minutes before, vomit was inevitable and he just hoped it wouldn’t happen during the vows. 

Will forgot the rings and made a mad dash down the aisle, slipping in the water puddle himself, as he went to grab them from the dressing rooms. The wedding was on hold for a few minutes and Merlin and Arthur awkwardly stood there while Geoffrey expounded on their love using words such as _passion_ and _desire_ and _appetite_ that had Merlin flushing and Arthur turning a bright embarrassed red. 

During the vows both Hunith and Uther sobbed. 

The club hall was decorated with Merlin’s original colour scheme despite the flowers which were a clashing mix of pumpkins and roses. Nothing matched, not even the napkins that somehow ended up blue. 

The first dance went well enough despite the fact that two bands showed up and both were determined to play. Merlin and Arthur laughed through the strange cacophony of sound while they awkwardly danced around the floor, kissing and tripping, fumbling around because they had both already drank a bottle of champagne between them in an attempt to survive without crying or committing homicide. Their wedding party joined them and for a moment, it was nice until Gwen’s water broke two weeks early and Lance went into hysterics while they rushed to the hospital. 

Leon was unable to give his speech since he was busy vomiting in the bathroom. Will was left with giving one on the spot that went surprisingly well even if he mentioned Merlin’s middle name several times just to see Merlin flustered. 

There were two cakes. Arthur and Merlin cut the chocolate fortress while giggling. They smashed the chocolate into each other’s faces then kissed. Arthur chased the chocolate taste in Merlin’s mouth which proceeded to devolve into a fantastic snogging session that had Great Aunt Gladys clutching her purse and several other individuals catcalling. The chocolate cake was voraciously eaten by all present and the almond cake was left untouched. 

At some point during the dancing, Arthur took Merlin’s hand and tugged him toward the coat closet. 

“I want you so badly right now Merlin Emrys Pendragon, I can hardly stand it,” he had whispered as they fumbled with the doorknob. 

They spilled into the closet only to bump into a couple already there. 

“Freya!” Merlin exclaimed. 

“Mordred?” Arthur asked. “How did you…?”

Merlin averted his eyes as Freya held her dress up with one hand. “I invited him. Is that okay?”

“Fine,” Merlin said, hand firmly over his eyes. “Carry on.”

Merlin and Arthur stumbled out of the closet only to smack squarely into Uther and Hunith, holding hands and discreetly looking for their own place. 

“Mum!” Merlin squeaked. 

“Father!” Arthur yelled. 

“Boys,” Uther said evenly, “is that closet occupied?”

“Yes,” Merlin said quickly. 

Hunith giggled, her cheeks alcohol-flushed. 

“Oh Uther, I’m sure there is another private place to go.”

“Mum!” Merlin interrupted, scandalized. 

Hunith reached forward, drunkenly patted his cheek. “Oh, Starshine sweetheart, it’s just sex. Free love and happiness.”

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered, “I’m about to have a freak out.”

“Me too. Let’s agree not to speak of this again.”

“Agreed.”

They scampered off. 

By the end of the reception, Freya and Mordred were happily spinning around the dance floor while the two bands merged and one of the lead singers butchered Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” Leon looked remarkably better and Morgana sat on his lap feeding him bits of chocolate cake from her fingertips. Uther was dancing alone, his hands flailing wildly in the air. Hunith was discreetly drinking straight from a bottle of wine while talking to Balinor on the phone and berating him for missing the most beautiful wedding in the history of weddings. Will was flirting with Forridel who didn’t appear annoyed by the attention. Great Uncle Gaius and Geoffrey were sitting together and talking and laughing like they were old friends. Gwen and Lance texted to say that Gwen had an abnormally fast labor and had given birth to a baby boy that they named Thomas. Great Aunt Gladys was asleep. 

And when finally the reception had ended, and Myror and his staff were trying to capture the doves from the rafters (someone had released them thinking it was a grand idea), Merlin and Arthur thanked everyone that attended and sleepily stumbled into the limo set to take them to a hotel room. 

Merlin and Arthur slumped against each other laughing the whole time. 

“That was a disaster.”

“It was brilliant.”

“I can’t believe Freya and Mordred.”

“I can’t believe Mum and…”

“We agreed not to speak of it!”

Merlin turned to Arthur who still had some chocolate smeared along his ear. 

“I love you. Thank you for marrying me.”

Arthur hooked his arm around Merlin’s neck and pulled him into his side. He kissed Merlin’s forehead. 

“Let’s never do something like that again.”

Merlin squirmed closer. “Agreed.”

-

_Four years later_

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Arthur and Merlin decided to gather their family and friends together and announce the big news. They should’ve known, really, that it was an altogether bad idea based on every other previous occasion that they had planned and experienced by that point, including their wedding which had gone down in history as the most bizzare wedding ever. Yet, it was something to be said for them to be so stupidly in love that they had decided to try again anyway.

They booked a restaurant that wasn’t too plebian for Arthur’s family and not too pretentious for Merlin’s. They had given Uther the date and time several weeks in advance so he could fit it in his busy schedule. Uther purchased Hunith a bus ticket so she could be sure to make the trip. (Since now they were apparently good _friends_. Arthur and Merlin both decided not to dwell on it too much.) They arranged for Balinor to be on speaker-phone because he was off doing some kind of geologist expedition as he always was. (Balinor had come to visit Merlin and Arthur after the wedding for a whole month. Merlin loved his father dearly but couldn’t wait for him to leave after the first week. It seemed that their relationship worked best as a long distance one.) 

They invited Gwen and Lancelot because they had been able to find a babysitter for their two children. They invited Morgana and Leon together since they had been shagging for years and were now only entering what they deemed a normal relationship. They invited Will since he was now living nearby and was much less of an arse than he used to be. They invited Freya and with her came Mordred because they were inseparable. (Arthur was certain they had bonded over their mutual and creepy love of Merlin.)

Sitting at the table in the restaurant, hands clasped beneath the table, the warm gold of their rings clinking softly together, Merlin and Arthur readied to make their announcement. 

“Everyone,” Arthur said with more aplomb than Merlin could collect at the moment, “Merlin and I have decided that…”

“Is that a ring, Freya?” Morgana exclaimed, leaning across the table and grabbing Freya’s hand.

Freya blushed and Mordred puffed out his chest. 

“We’re getting married!” Freya exclaimed. “Mordred just asked me a few hours ago.”

“That is so wonderful!”

The table came alive then, all excited chatter, ( _that’s wonderful dear_ and _Mordred, you dog_ and _Can you top off my glass of wine?_ ) and Arthur sank heavily back in his seat, a little dazed.

“Did we just get our thunder stolen _again_?” Arthur asked, leaning into Merlin’s side.

“I think…I think we just did.”

Balinor’s voice came in covered in static and unintelligible so Merlin grabbed the phone and held it to his ear.

“Dad?” he said, “yeah, dad? I can’t hear you. What? Arthur and I…no…huh?” Merlin stood and walked a few steps from the table, as if it would help with reception and plugged one ear with his finger. “Can you hear me now? Arthur and I…” Merlin pulled the phone away and cursed. “Arthur and I are adopting!” he finally yelled, exasperated.

Arthur sighed, shook his head, and ran a hand down his face. He firmly nudged Merlin’s foot with his own and Merlin looked up from fiddling with his mobile and found all eyes on him.

“Oh,” was all he could muster.

 

THE END


End file.
